


Quarantine Quarrels

by SwanQueenUK



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: COVID-19, Coronavirus, Dirty Talk, F/F, Family, Fisting, Lesbian Relationship, Lesbian Sex, Love, Makeup Sex, Making Love, Oral Sex, Quarantine, Self Isolation, Sex, Trust, Vaginal Sex, distraction, lockdown - Freeform, social distancing, swanqueen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 88,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23358196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwanQueenUK/pseuds/SwanQueenUK
Summary: SwanQueen AU: When Regina is forced to provide shelter to her soon-to-be-ex Emma, both women know they're in for a long few days. Quarantined with their son, the two women struggle to navigate their rocky relationship and their isolation from the rest of the world. How will this time together affect their impending divorce and their family's future? Rated E for chapters 13,14, 21, 22, 30 and 35.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 416
Kudos: 854





	1. Late

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I’m back! A combination of missing writing, having a lot of time on my hands (as we all do at the moment) and inspiration came to me last night (March 27th – the world is changing so fast at the moment that I feel dates are going to be important). Firstly, this is not a story which is going to feature Covid-19, although it is inspired by the current situation billions of people find themselves in at the moment – quarantine, self-isolation and lockdown. More in the A/N at the bottom but for now, I guess I’ll let you dive on in!

Clicking to create a new slide, she glanced at the clock before resuming her work. The words flowed freely. She knew what content she wanted to include. It wasn’t her first time lecturing on Hamlet. Nor would it be her last. The house was silent except for the rhythmic tapping of the keyboard, steadily pouring content into the slide. Soon enough, she was ready for the next one. 

Another glance at the clock. Forty-three minutes late. She pursed her lips, irritation bubbling up inside her. Was it really so hard? It wasn’t like she had asked for anything particularly complex or unreasonable. Just a time by which to be sure their son was home, so he had enough of the day to finish the outstanding pieces of homework. 

Three slides later and she finally heard the tell-tale crunch of gravel. Taking her glasses off, she ran her fingers through her hair before picking up her cell phone and heading for the front door. By the time she reached the yard, the tardy duo were already in the garage. 

“It’s almost six thirty,” she announced, voice clipped as she stepped into the sunlit space. 

“Sorry, Mom. I got a flat,” Henry explained, holding out the puncture repair kit as if to prove a point. 

“Homework, young man. Now. And take a shower first, you’re filthy,” she added, taking in the dust and mud which was caked up her son’s shins and spattered across his face. 

Dutifully, he placed the kit back on the shelf where it lived and headed for the house.

“Did you have a good day?” she called after him before he reached the front door.

Her son turned and a wide smile split across his face. “It was awesome. Ma said we can go next weekend too; maybe try some of the harder tracks. I’m getting good at the small jumps and Ma thinks I’m ready to try some of the bigger ones.”

The thought of her son flying through the air, clinging haphazardly to a bicycle clenched between his legs as the hard earth rushed towards him made Regina’s stomach flip. But she refused to show this fear. Already she wasn’t the ‘cool’ parent. She didn’t want to give her son another reason to prefer Emma over her. Instead, she forced a smile as she watched Henry disappearing into the house before turning to Emma. 

“Jumping? On a bicycle. Are you trying to kill our son?”

“Of course not,” Emma muttered from her position, tool in hand, crouched on the ground beside Henry’s bike which was now upside down so she could work on it. 

“And do you know what time it is?”

“Nope,” Emma relied, not looking up. 

“I asked you to have Henry back here by five. It’s Sunday night and he has homework to do.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry about that but as the kid said, he got a flat tyre. We had to patch it and then ride home. Plus, there’s something weird going on with his gears. Can you hand me that spanner?”

Ignoring the request, the older woman folded her arms over her chest. “You can’t just not show up at the agreed upon with our son,” she pushed on. “This joint custody thing only works if we coordinate as a team. I always make sure Henry is on time for his visits with you.”

“You mean for the two nights a week I’m allowed to look after my kid,” Emma asked, now standing up to reach for the spanner which was lying on the workbench right next to the dark-haired woman. “Yeah, well, Henry walks from school to mine on Monday and Thursday nights. I don’t think you can take too much credit for the fact that he manages that epic journey within three minutes, Regina. And we didn’t mean to be late. Blame the stupid sharp stone which cause the puncture if you want something to yell at.”

“I’m not yelling and I’m not blaming an inanimate object,” Regina huffed. “Would it have killed you to make a phone call?”

“No battery,” Emma replied, now working to loosen the gear sprocket. 

“What sort of adult doesn’t charge their phone before they take their son to do a dangerous activity?” Regina exclaimed. Sometimes, the levels of irresponsibility displayed by the woman now dismantling the bike astounded her. She couldn’t work out how they had managed to get through thirteen years of marriage together without Emma inadvertently setting fire to their house or somehow causing them serious harm through her careless actions.

“Mountain biking isn’t dangerous,” Emma sighed. “We both wore helmets. And you do realise the jumps Henry goes over are barely a foot high. They’re more like little bumps in the road than cliff edges. Seriously, Regina, you need to chill out.”

“Chill out?”

Oops, thought Emma. That may have been the wrong expression to use. She chanced a glance at the woman, silhouetted in the entrance to the garage by the early evening sun.

“When it comes to our son’s safety and well-being, Emma, I will never chill out,” Regina said after a moment’s pause. “And there was a time when I included your safety in that too. Now it is no longer my responsibility to care what you choose to do in your spare time but if you are looking after our son, I have a right to know he’s safe.”

“Henry’s fine! Henry’s always been fine. When have I ever brought our son back with so much as a scratch on him? He’s a smart kid; smarter than me.”

“That’s true.”

Emma ignored the jibe she’d inadvertently set up to be hit with and carried on. “He’s not going to do something he doesn’t believe he is capable of and he’s not going to put himself in a dangerous situation. You can trust him and I would have liked to think you can trust me too.”

“You know I don’t trust you,” Regina spat.

That sobered the blonde who finally put down the spanner having worked the sprocket free. She lay the grimy metal down and stood up, wiping her hands on her jeans which were already filthy and had long ago been designated for mucky tasks. Flecks of paint were visible beneath the mud, a sky-blue from when the three of them had painted Henry’s bedroom half a decade ago. Happier times.

“I know you don’t trust me as your wife any more,” Emma agreed. “And you know I’ll forever be sorry for breaking that trust.” Regina looked away. Now was not the time to delve into the breakdown of their marriage. “But you have to trust me when I say that I would never put Henry in danger. I love our son more than anything in the world. You know that. I would and will do anything to keep him safe. So you may not trust me in the way you used to but please don’t lose faith in my ability to take care of our son.”

Regina gazed into those green eyes, orbs which she had once been able to see her whole future in, the portal to the rest of her life. Now she just saw betrayal, sadness and regret. But she also recognised that her soon-to-be-ex-wife was telling the truth. She knew Emma would never deliberately put Henry in danger. 

“I trust you with Henry,” she murmured, eyes downcast once the intensity on Emma’s face became too much. “But next time, call me, ok? I was worried. You were …” she pulled out her phone to check the time.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Over an hour late. It won’t happen again and -”

“Emma, get in the house.”

“What?” Emma frowned, looking up from the bike to which she had returned. 

“Get in the house. Now!”

The terror on Regina’s face made Emma obey without question. She followed as Regina rushed up the garden path and into the large home, slamming the door shut behind the two of them as soon as they were both over the threshold. 

“Regina, what -?”

“Henry!” Regina called up the stairs. 

There was no answer but the distant sound of water running and a tuneless attempt at singing told both mothers their son was still in the shower. 

“Shut the windows,” Regina said to Emma. “All of them. You do down here, I’ll do upstairs.”

“Regina, what’s going on?”

“Just shut the windows, Emma!”

Fear made the words catch in Regina’s throat even as she ran upstairs to check the all of windows in their four bedroom home. Moving from room to room, she double checked all the latches and pulled shut the small window on the landing which had been letting some of the warm spring air inside. Her fingers trembled as she secured it. 

“Regina, what’s happening?” Emma asked, appearing at the top of the stairs after having completed her assigned task.

“There’s been an accident,” Regina said, leaning heavily on the windowsill.

“What sort of accident?” Emma pressed, moving further down the landing.

“At the chemical plant. I got an emergency notification telling me to go inside because there was a risk of exposure to hazardous materials in our area.”

“What?”

Regina reached for her phone and handed it to Emma. The blonde slid the relevant alert from the notification list and unlocked the phone with Regina’s password, which she was yet to change. Emerald eyes darted down the brief notification which had been issued by the local authorities. 

“Shit,” Emma said after a few seconds, handing the phone back to Regina and leaning on the windowsill beside her. 

They sat in silence, arms barely an inch apart, taking in the news. The briefing had not given much information. The name of the chemical had been unfamiliar to both women, neither particularly strong in the science department, and there was no further instruction about how long they should ‘shelter in place’, only that they should remain inside until further notice. As both women sat, contemplating what this may mean, Henry emerged onto the landing, towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Mom? Ma?” he asked, taking in both his parents sitting and apparently staring at nothing.

“Is the bathroom window shut, Henry?” Regina queried.

“Yes. Why?”

“There’s been an accident at the chemical plant,” Regina explained.

“So?”

“So there are some toxic chemicals which have been released into the air and everyone within a ten mile radius has to stay inside for a while to make sure we don’t get sick.”

“But that plant is, like, nine miles away,” Henry pointed out.

“Yes, and nine is a smaller number than ten, hence we’re at risk,” Emma reminded her son.

“So, we can’t go outside?” Henry asked. “What about school?”

“No school for a while, I imagine,” Regina replied. 

“And Ma?”

Emma looked at Regina for the answer to that question. Without making eye contact, Regina pushed herself off the windowsill and smoothed out her silk blouse with the palms of her hands. 

“Emma will be staying here until it’s safe to leave again,” Regina said before walking back down the landing and descending the stairs, both Emma and Henry watching her go.

It was Henry who spoke first, when he heard his mother’s heels familiar click on the tiled kitchen surface and knew she was too far away to overhear their conversation. “You’re staying here?”

“Looks like it, kid,” Emma nodded, standing up as well, glancing at the windowsill and noticing that she’d left a smudge of grease. Uh oh, she’d have to clean that before Regina noticed

“Do you think you guys might -”

“Henry, you know the deal,” Emma sighed, turning back to her son. “I’d move back in here in a heartbeat if your mom would let me. But it’s her decision. And I don’t blame her for not wanting me here, to be honest, and you shouldn’t either. I’m in the wrong and I’m not going to push her into anything she isn’t comfortable with.”

“Yeah, but if you guys have to live together again for a few days or however long this will take, maybe she’ll remember what she loves about you and you’ll get back together!”

Emma offered her son a sad smile. “I wish it were that simple, kid. But a lot has happened between your mom and me. It’s going to take more than a few days in quarantine to fix our problems.”

“But you’ll try?” Henry’s face, illuminated with hope at the prospect of his mothers getting back together again broke Emma’s heart. The separation had hit him hard. It was a shock, completely unexpected and although at the age of eleven he understood what had happened, he had still not accepted it, even though Emma had moved out before Christmas, five months earlier. 

“I never stopped trying, Henry,” Emma said quietly. “I never will stop trying to get your mom to forgive me. You know that. I still love her and always will love her. And I’d do anything for her to love me again.”


	2. Benzene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Firstly, I was blown away by the response to the first chapter – thank you so much! After 3 months away, I wasn’t sure how many people were still reading SwanQueen fanfic but I’m pleased to discover it’s alive and well. More than ever, we need one another as a community. I know most of you will skip this note, but I just wanted to clarify a few things:
> 
> 1\. When I said I was going to post sporadically, that meant randomly but almost certainly more frequently than the once a week I used to stick to, as evidenced by this chapter you’re ready 24 hours after chapter 1! Basically, when I have spare time, I’ll be writing…
> 
> 2\. I’m not in any way trying to capitalise on the fear and tragedy of the current epidemic. The whole world is scared and everyone is suffering. I’ve lost clients from my business because of what’s happening. I’ve not left my village in 9 days. My 100 year old grandad is alone in a house 200 miles away and we can’t go and visit him. Two of my close friends are doctors working for the NHS. I know three people, including my sister-in-law, who currently have Covid-19. Believe me, I’m in the same boat as you all.
> 
> 3\. This story is purely meant as escapism. I started writing it because the idea formed but I was/am extremely conscious of not making Emma and Regina be quarantined because of covid-19. This story won’t be so much about the lockdown conditions we’re all living in but more about the relationship between our two lovely ladies. Which, I hope, is why you guys usually read my stories! In the dark times we live in, I hope I can offer just a little happiness.
> 
> 4\. Let’s face it, the opportunity to write a story with a double Q name was just too good to pass up.
> 
> Ok, that was a stupidly long A/N. On with the story!

Hands curled around the edge of the kitchen counter. Fingers gripped, knuckles tensed. She hung her head, hair falling down to shield her face from … reality? Life? The situation?

Which situation? There were two, she decided. One led to the other but nevertheless, two situations had emerged. One was the fact that she and her family needed to stay inside for an indefinite amount of time in order to stay safe. The other was that her family once again included Emma Swan. Well, Emma Swan-Mills. The blonde hadn’t changed her name back yet. The divorce wasn’t finalised.

Looking up, she gazed out of the large window above the kitchen sink. Beyond it, the world appeared unchanged. There was no billowing, ominous yellow cloud unfurling before her. People weren’t running down the street screaming. In fact, there was no one outside at all. And even that wasn’t unusual as they lived at the end of a cul-de-sac. But she knew their location wasn’t the reason for the low foot traffic. Her phone had already pinged with two additional notifications, warning her to stay indoors and to secure all windows and doors shut.

Which she had done. She had made sure her house was safe, a sanctuary to protect everyone inside from the threat which had appeared. The only problem was, that sanctuary contained Emma. Not that Regina wished any harm on Emma for one moment. Their marriage might have ended and Regina was still hurting as a result of Emma’s actions. However, those factors didn’t add up to Regina wishing Emma ill. Certainly not in the form of exposure to a dangerous chemical. But, if she was honest with herself, the thought of spending the next few days, at least, in close quarters with the blonde did not sit well with her.

The events of the previous autumn were still raw. She was still in pain, still angry, still dealing with the knowledge that their marriage had broken down. Even if she was the person who had called an end to the relationship, who had asked for the divorced, that didn’t mean she wasn’t in pain. Deep pain. Intense pain. Like a knife to the gut, unyielding. That pain and sorrow had become her constant companion over the last few months. It became more acute, she had discovered, when Henry was out of the house and spending time with Emma, lessening only slightly when he walked back into the family home.

The pain intensified also whenever she saw Emma, appearing to pick up or drop Henry off. She ran a hand over her stomach. How on earth was she going to survive this lockdown?

“Do you want a hand with dinner?”

She jumped at the familiar voice behind her, not aware that Emma had descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Regina turned around and schooled her features into the mask she was so adept at wearing whenever she had to speak to Emma since the blonde had moved out.

“No, thank you, I’m fine. Go and play video games with Henry or something. Distract him from what’s going on.”

“Henry’s upstairs googling the chemical which has been leaked from the plant,” Emma replied, pulling out one of the chairs at the casual dining table and sitting down. “He said it was, and I quote, cool.”

“And this is why I hate the internet,” Regina sighed. “Do we really want our eleven-year-old knowing about why we have to stay inside?”

“Do we have a choice? It he was four, maybe we could hide it from him, but he’s old enough to be told the truth. This is going to be a significant disruption in his life. He has a right to know what’s going on. Plus, he cracked the last parental lock I put on his computer in three minutes, so do we even have a choice?”

“I’d just rather be the one controlling what he knows. The internet is going to be filled with all sorts of scary information about this leak. The notifications I got were alarming enough and they barely mentioned anything.”

At that, Emma pulled out her cell from her pocket. “Can I charge this, by the way? I reckon I probably need to be up to date too.”

Regina took the cell from Emma’s hand and plugged it into the charger which always dangled from one of the kitchen sockets. The screen illuminated at once, grateful for being brought back to life. “You’re just lucky this happened after you and Henry were back here. Imagine what could have happened if you were still on the trail. I told you, this is why you need your cell on you at all times.”

“In the event of chemical leaks? Yeah, cos that’s an everyday occurrence,” Emma chuckled.

Regina, who had started to cut an onion in preparation for their dinner, shook her head in mild disbelief. “It might not be everyday but it’s happened today, Emma. And had you not been here, you and Henry could have been exposed. You could have been trapped behind a roadblock, which apparently are going up all over town now. I mean, keeping your cell charged isn’t too much to ask, is it? You’re an adult, after all.”

“Fine, I get it,” Emma snapped. “I won’t do it again.”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence. It was a familiar state the two women had found themselves in frequently in the weeks leading up to Emma moving out. Awkward silences and screaming matches. Those were their two forms of communication. Until it became too much and Regina begged Emma to leave, to just get out, to give her space. The blonde had wanted to argue but the look on Regina’s face broke her heart, so she had nodded and packed that evening. The space Regina asked for had turned into divorce papers.

“I ought to change,” Emma murmured after gazing at her knees for a few minutes, Regina now having moved on to chopping garlic.

“You can borrow some clothes,” Regina replied without turning around. “Put those in the laundry. I’ll put a load on later.”

“I can do the laundry, Gina,” Emma offered. “I’ll do Henry’s too. We both got pretty filthy on the ride.”

“Ok, thanks. Henry’s clothes will be -”

“On the floor of the bathroom,” Emma finished. “I know our son, Gina.”

The knife was placed down, a little harder than necessary beside the board, hands splayed across the counter. “Please don’t call me that.”

Emma, who had stood from the chair and was now in the doorway, looked over at her wife. For that was what Regina still was, to her. Until those papers were signed, they were still married. And that meant there was a glimmer of hope. But as Emma watched the familiar curve of the brunette’s shoulders shudder lightly, that glimmer became a little less bright.

“Sorry,” she whispered, tears sparkling in her own eyes as she retreated from the kitchen, leaving Regina alone.

* * *

On the threshold to what had once been their marital bedroom, Emma paused. She had permission from Regina to enter in order to find some clean clothes, but she still hesitated. Memories of the last time she was in there flashed through her mind. It was weeks prior to when she’d eventually moved out, having been relegated to the spare room for those final, agonising days. She couldn’t blame Regina for not wanting Emma near her. But returning to this space, which had once been filled with so many happy memories, gave her pause.

They had sat together on the end of the bed, waiting for the pregnancy test to tell them whether the IVF had worked. Emma had sat in the large bay window, nursing Henry in the early hours while Regina dozed in their bed. Regina had emerged from the bathroom, wearing in a breath-taking outfit the evening they celebrated her getting tenure. Emma had opened the letter informing her that she’d passed her Masters while sat in that bed, Regina curled into her side. And if you looked closely, you could just see the faint stain on the carpet where Henry had spilled coffee last Valentine’s Day when he had insisted on making his moms breakfast in bed.

A room full of memories. Mostly good, some bad. This had been where their marriage began to fall apart. Right there, Emma thought, zoning in on the chair in front of the dresser. That was where Regina had been sitting when Emma had told her the truth. And that had been the last evening the two of them had gotten ready for bed side by side. After Emma’s confession, she had been banished, rightly so, to the guest room.

Steeling herself, she stepped inside the room. It smelled like Regina. Her perfume, her skin products, her. Emma’s heart ached a little, ached for all she had lost, all she had given up. And all she wished she could get back. But was Regina ever going to forgive her? Was she ever going to be in a space where she could consider taking Emma back? Not at the moment, for sure.

Crossing the room, Emma decided it was best to get in and get out as quickly as possible. Wrenching open the middle drawer, she grabbed the first old t-shirt she could find. The bottom drawer contained the few pairs of jeans her wife owned. Once she had selected the pair she knew were Regina’s least favourite and therefore least likely to be missed, she slid the drawer closed.

Stripping down quickly, she pulled t-shirt over her head, trying to ignore the way her nostrils filled with the familiar scent of their laundry detergent, mixed with what could only be Regina. The jeans were a little less easy. While Emma and Regina were a similar size, Emma’s legs were longer by several inches, leaving her ankles sticking out from the blue denim. But they’d do. She grabbed her discarded, muddy clothes and hurried from the room, closing the door behind her.

“Mom! Did you know Benzene can kill you?”

Emma paused on her way past her son’s room. “Henry, stop googling. And yes, of course we knew that. That’s why I’m stuck here with a woman who hates me, remember?”

Henry wrenched his eyes away from the screen and turned in his chair to face his mother. “You guys had a fight already? What did you do, Ma?”

“Why would you assume I was in the wrong?” Emma asked, indignant. But Henry just raised one eyebrow in a mannerism so similar to his other mother that Emma couldn’t help but soften. “I called her Gina.”

“Oh, yeah, she doesn’t like that.”

“Why not?”

“I think because you started it as a nickname? She asked Kat not to call her that a couple of months ago when she came over. Maybe it reminds her of you or something.”

Emma leaned on the doorframe. “Urgh, I wish I didn’t know that.”

“Sorry, Ma. But now you know one more thing to avoid doing for the next few weeks. You know, it looks like we’re going to be here for ages. Benzene is super bad. It causes cancer and stuff.”

“Yeah, I know. And from the few minutes I just spent in the kitchen, it looks like it’s going to be a long few weeks. Maybe I’ll wrap my head in a wet towel and just make a run for it if it gets too much.”

Henry laughed and then sobered up quickly. “No, Ma. You have to stay inside. It’s not safe to go out. Just be nice to Mom. Don’t piss her off -”

“Language, Henry.”

“- and maybe she’ll remember how much she loves you.”

Emma sighed. “You’re sweet, kid. Thanks. Oh, but can you please pick up your dirty clothes from the bathroom floor? You’re such a slob.” She waved the crumpled handful of clothes she had collected on the way down the landing.

Henry grinned and turned back to the computer, presumably to find out some more gruesome details about the dangers of Benzene.

* * *

The vegetables were already softened in a pan by the time Emma returned to the kitchen. Regina barely acknowledged her presence except to gesture to the uncapped beer which she’d removed from the larder and placed on the side.

“Thanks. Didn’t know you had any of these here.”

“I didn’t throw them away,” Regina replied, taking a sip from her own red wine. “That would have been a waste.”

“Yeah and you never know when you’re going to be trapped in quarantine for weeks on end with your wife, right?”

“Weeks on end?”

“That’s what Henry reckons. I mean, I know he’s not a scientist but he says this stuff is pretty nasty. He said it with glee on his face by the way. Do you think we should have him tested for psychopathic tendencies when this is all over?”

Despite herself, Regina chuckled. “He’s an eleven-year-old boy. He’s just curious and has a natural fascination with some of the uglier sides of human innovation. Unless he starts building an atom bomb in the shed, I think we’re safe.”

“Good to know,” Emma replied. “Thanks for the clothes by the way. I’ve put a wash on.”

“You’re welcome.”

Silence fell. Emma wanted to continue the conversation but wasn’t sure which, if any, topics were safe at the moment. So instead she picked up her phone which had a small amount of charge now and began to read the latest news alerts about the chemical plant. Henry was right. They were going to be inside this house for a while.

Would that help her quest to get Regina back? Would this enforced quarantine be the opportunity she needed to show Regina how sorry she was and how much she wanted their marriage to work? Or would Regina grow to resent her even more than she already did? By the time this quarantine was over, Emma mused, they’d know one way or the other whether their marriage had any hope of a future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m not a chemist! Like, at all! I Googled a lot and tried to find a toxic chemical which is dangerous but which hasn’t recently been involved in an explosion. And, as I said, this is just the backdrop to what I want this story to be about – our ladies! Give me a little artistic license!! And let’s try and make the reviews for this story as positive as possible – we’re all in this together and we don’t need any more negativity in the world at the moment. Big love to all of you!


	3. Chores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: hello, escapism!

“So, how are we gonna get food and everything?” Henry asked through a mouthful of dinner. 

“We have food, Henry,” Regina reassured him, arranging a daintier bite on her own fork. 

“Yeah, but.” Henry paused to swallow and then continued. “What if we have to stay in the house for months? Then what?”

“We won’t be inside for months, kid,” Emma said. The briefing she’d read as Regina prepared dinner had mentioned the lockdown being in place for a few days, a week at most. “And if we are, the authorities will have to arrange for food parcels to be delivered. They’re not going to let us all starve. Plus, unless a lot has changed since I moved out, your mom will have the pantry stacked as if preparing for Armageddon anyway.”

“It’s true,” Regina nodded, joining forces with Emma to reassure their son. She was a mother first, a separated wife second. “We’ve got enough food in this house to eat like kings and queens for weeks. Don’t worry, Henry. You’re not going to starve.”

Henry shrugged and tucked back into his dinner, half the food already gone in just a few short minutes. Regina returned to her own plate and, after a few seconds glancing between the two people who made up her family, Emma did the same. 

The rest of the meal passed in silence, ended when Henry scraped his chair noisily against the flagstone floor and stood up. Depositing his plate on the counter above the dishwasher, he loped from the room. 

“He still can’t manage to put his plate inside the dishwasher, I see,” Emma mused, taking a swig from her beer.

“No, that particular action seems beyond our son. I assume he’s as bad when he stays with you?”

“I don’t have a dishwasher, but he doesn’t help me clean up, no.”

Regina still hadn’t been inside the apartment Emma had rented after she moved out. In truth, she was curious, and a number of times when she had been parked outside, waiting to collect Henry after his time with Emma, she had contemplated walking to the door and ringing the bell. But every time, before she had summoned up the courage, Henry had emerged, bounding towards her and the opportunity had passed.

She may have been the one to ask Emma to move out, unable to live with the betrayal. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t interested in the blonde’s new life. Emma fascinated her. Always had. There were so many facets to the woman. In the early days of their relationship, she had loved exploring them, learning new things about Emma. But it was secrets which tore them apart and Emma’s capacity to compartmentalise so much of her life had ultimately led to the breakdown of their marriage. 

“Well, maybe one day he’ll learn to bend from the waist and stack a plate or two,” Regina said, finishing her own meal and standing to do just that. 

Emma followed, eager to remind Regina that while she may not have been the world’s greatest cook, she was always helpful in the kitchen. 

“Let me do that,” she offered, taking the plate from Regina’s hand. “You cooked. Go and put your feet up. Read a book or something.”

There was a moment of hesitation before Regina nodded her thanks and left the room, picking up her half full wine glass on the way. Emma made a mental note to carry the bottle through to the living room or study, wherever the brunette settled, after the kitchen was spotless once more. 

She quite liked washing up, finding the task almost meditative, and gained immense satisfaction from seeing the remnants of a meal disappear. Usually, she’d listen to a podcast or music to pass the time but today she navigated to a local radio station, eager to find out as much as she could about the shelter in place directive and just how long she would be forced to intrude on Regina’s life. 

True, she wanted to be here. Not under these circumstances but she certainly wanted to be living under the same roof as her son and wife. Soon-to-be-ex-wife but wife for now. Of course, in her mind Regina would have asked her to come back because she had been forgiven, not because a carcinogenic chemical was threatening their lives. But quite frankly, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Emma had certainly begged. The night of the confession. And every day afterwards until eventually Regina had cracked, told Emma she had to leave, that there was no future for them after what she’d done. That the trust which they had once shared had been shattered beyond repair. 

Some days Emma woke with a smile on her face, looking forward to the day ahead. And then she’d roll over and realise Regina wasn’t beside her. That the other side of the cheap mattress was cold and that her family no longer lived with her. Cold crept into her bones as the memory of her lost family seeped through her body. Other days, she woke up crying, her subconscious already processing the loss as the devastation of her marriage penetrated her dreams.

But now she was back. In the home that she and Regina bought together, where they had raised Henry, grown as a family, celebrated birthdays and mourned the deaths of Regina’s parents. She was back home. But according to the radio announcement, local residents would only be under lockdown for a few days. As soon as the restrictions were lifted, she’d have to leave. Back to that small, cold, bare apartment. Back to the life she had brought upon herself. Back to the life she hated. Away from the life she had worked so hard to build and had lost because of one, stupid, weak moment. 

Emma scowled at herself as she tugged the plug from the sink and watched the dirty, sudsy water spiral away from her. Just like her family.

No, that wasn’t true. She still had Henry. Because, for whatever reason, Regina hadn’t told him the truth. He still thought Emma was a good person. He still loved her. Somehow, Henry hadn’t overheard their arguments, which had been confined to late at night or while he was out of the house. As much as possible, they had acted civilly towards one another throughout those tense weeks. And when Emma had moved out, they had told him that they were taking a break but without divulging any details. 

For that Emma was grateful. Much as Regina’s hate for her hurt, the thought of her son hating her was even more unbearable. And he had every right to hate her, after what she’d done. She just prayed she had enough time to right her wrong before he discovered the truth. 

“Are you ok?”

Looking over her shoulder, Emma forced a smile at Regina who had entered the kitchen silently and spotted the blonde, hunched over the sink.

“Yeah,” Emma nodded, reaching to mute the radio. “Sorry, just thinking.”

“We’re safe here,” Regina offered. “The house is sealed and we just have to sit tight until it’s over. We’re so far from the plant, I don’t think our risk is that high anyway.”

Emma wiped her hands on a tea towel and leaned against the counter. “Yeah, that’s not what I’m thinking about.”

“Oh.”

No clarification was needed. The familiarity of the domestic scene which they had enacted that evening was apparent to both women. 

“Did I ever thank you?” Emma asked after a pause.

“For what?”

“For not telling Henry what I did. You could have. You were the one in the right.”

Regina crossed to the dining table and poured herself another glass of wine before answering. “What good would it have done? Henry is innocent in all this and telling him would only have caused him pain. He was already losing you from his day to day life. I didn’t want to taint the way he looks at you.”

“Even if that’s what I deserve?”

“You might deserve it, but Henry doesn’t. Every child should idolise their parents. And every child should believe that their parents do everything in their power to make their lives as wonderful as possible. Why would I ever take that away from him?”

Emma’s heart clenched at the honest yet harsh words. It was true. She was idolised by Henry and yet she had betrayed him. Her actions had harmed him, changed his life in many ways. And taken away his family.

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered, swiping at the tears which now leaked from her eyes.

“I know,” Regina replied. “But sorry isn’t enough, Emma. I know with these things it’s not as simple as having self-control but as far as I’m concerned, it is. You should never have done it in the first place.”

“And I’ll never forgive myself for doing it. You do know that, right?”

“I know you feel guilt, yes. But that doesn’t mean I forgive you for what you did.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Emma said hurriedly. “I think I’ve realised I don’t deserve forgiveness. I’ll have to live with that burden for the rest of my life. Even if I can put it right, on a practical level, I know you won’t be able to trust me again. To be honest I don’t think I trust myself any more. That weakness, that lack of control. It scares me.”

“Come through to the lounge. I’ve lit a fire,” Regina offered, seeing the distress in her wife’s face. “We can talk about it.”

Emma’s eyebrows raised at the generous offer. She had half a mind to ask Regina if she was serious but decided not to, in case she accidentally talked the brunette out of the suggestion. So she pulled another beer from the fridge, wondering as she did so when Regina had stocked the top shelves on her behalf, and padded, barefoot, through to the lounge. 

The warmth of the room enveloped her as she crossed the threshold, reminding Emma of how much she’d missed those long winter evenings, snuggled up with Regina on the couch. Her crummy new apartment didn’t have a fireplace, just inefficient electric heaters. But she couldn’t complain. It wasn’t like she deserved, or could afford, a nicer place. 

Regina settled herself in her usual spot, curled up against the arm of the couch, placing the discarded book she’d been reading on the side table. Emma hesitated before sitting in the armchair. Something told her that she wouldn’t be welcome in her old space, on the couch, close to Regina with the brunette’s toes often nestled beneath her thigh.

“So, how’s it going?” Regina asked when the blonde was seated.

“How’s what going?”

“Your recovery, Emma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you’re all feeling ok. Today marks the 14th day of lockdown with my parents. We’re holding up fine – plenty of food delivered from local farms (a perk of countryside living). I’m lucky, though. I’ve got company, a full fridge, a snuggly cat, a job I have always done from home and footpaths all around us to keep us active. But how are you doing? I read all reviews so feel free to drop me a note. I’m sending you all a virtual hug! And if you wanna keep in touch, follow me on Instagram (swanqueenuk) or Twitter (swanqueenukff).


	4. Addiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yay, more escapism. And only 24 hours to wait to find out what Emma’s recovering from. Well, sort of.

“Oh, well, you know. Day by day.”

“Are you still going to meetings?”

Emma nodded. “A few times a week. I started scaling back a couple of months ago. If I feel I need one, I’ll go more often but mostly it’s just once or twice during the week and then at the weekend.”

“Is that going to be a problem over the next few days?”

The blonde gave a non-committal shrug. “It’s not like I have access to temptation here. I’ll be fine.”

Brown eyes regarded the woman carefully. “Will you tell me if you’re not?”

“Yes, of course,” Emma assured. “But I am doing much better. It feels like a quicker process this time. Already, it’s no longer a constant presence in my life. I’ll always be recovering, I know. But I’ve been in recovery for half my life. What happened just set me back to when I was twenty-two again. It’s like landing on the longest snake in snakes and ladders. Except there are no ladders. Now I’m down at the start again, I just have to work to get back to where I was, one day at a time.”

“How many days has it been?”

“One hundred and forty-three,” Emma replied instantly. “Quite the stretch to get back to where I was.”

“Fifteen years,” Regina mused.

“You remembered?”

“I can do math, Emma. I know how old you are and I know when your last slip happened. I was there, remember? You never hid your recovery from me before. From the moment we met, well, from our third date, I knew you were in recovery. I admired that honesty, respected your commitment to the program and how you placed your desire to stay strong so front and centre of who you are as a person.”

“Which makes my failures front and centre too, I suppose,” Emma replied darkly. Her thumbnail began to absentmindedly scratch at the label stuck to the beer bottle clutched in her hands.

“I think you think they define you. But I never saw it that way. At least, not until your actions affected Henry.”

Shame bubbled up in Emma. The emotion had sat permanently on her chest for the past few months, from the moment she had realised what she had done. She didn’t think it would ever fade but when a conversation directly related to it came up, the weight became almost unbearable. 

“You know I’ll never forgive myself, Regina. Please, let’s just leave it at that.” Emma wasn’t in a position to talk about what she’d done at that moment. 

“Fine,” Regina replied, aware of how the conversation was affecting the blonde and not wanting to cause undue stress. “But let me say this. I should have noticed what was happening. After being in a relationship with you for sixteen years, I should have seen what was going on. You may have made the decision on your own but I feel my own guilt for not having been there to support you.”

Emma looked up from the beer bottle, shredded paper from the label littering her lap. “No, Regina. This isn’t on you. This was my fault. My mistake. My choice. Don’t take the blame for something you had no obligation to prevent.”

“You were my wife, Emma. Of course I was obliged to try and prevent you doing what you did, to the best of my ability. And I failed.”

“I am your wife,” Emma whispered. “And you didn’t fail. I did.”

The duo fell silent, pondering the most frank and honest conversation the two of them had had since Emma moved out, four months earlier. 

“I’m going to check on Henry; make sure he’s not reading anything too horrifying about benzene on Google,” Regina said after a while.

Emma nodded but didn’t look up from where she was now picking flecks of the label up and placing them in the palm of her hand. Regina already hated her; she didn’t need to make a mess of the armchair on top of everything else. The moment the brunette’s footsteps could be heard on the stairs, however, Emma leaned back in the chair, closed her eyes and let out a groan. 

The fact that Regina felt guilt or blame for what had happened did not sit well with Emma. Her personal choices were hers and hers alone. Yes, her ability to make good decisions may be clouded at times due to the addiction she had been suffering with since she was seventeen. But they were still her decisions to make. And although Regina had been supportive throughout their relationships in moments when temptations arose and were even succumbed to, it wasn’t her responsibility to do anything other than be there for Emma in a supportive capacity. It was not Regina’s job to stop her actions. 

And how could she have? Emma hadn’t exactly told Regina she had fallen off the wagon, for want of a better phrase. And the downward spiral was fast. Alarmingly fast. Faster than Emma, who had tripped up many times on her road to recovery, had experienced before. It had been barely ten days from the first slip to rock bottom. Regina couldn’t have known. Emma had deliberately kept it from her wife, at first because she thought she had it under control and then because the full force of the shame hit her. It was only the magnitude of her mistake, and its consequences, which meant Emma waited a mere twenty-four hours to confess what she had done. 

She knew what it would cost her. She knew her marriage was over in that moment, when she choked out the truth. But it wasn’t a secret she could keep. There was no way she could cover up what she’d done. Covering up one small mistake was what had led to the bigger, unforgivable mistake. 

Yes, addiction was addiction. Yes, her judgement was clouded in that moment. But Emma didn’t consider that an excuse for her actions. She also didn’t believe Regina should let her off lightly. Which she hadn’t. Emma had confessed without blaming her addiction, she had owned up, accepted responsibility with the tiniest glimmer of hope that perhaps that would allow Regina the chance to offer forgiveness and the opportunity for Emma to redeem herself. But the trust they had once shared was gone, destroyed. Honesty after the fact couldn’t make up for the betrayal and the lies.

“Would you like some cake?”

Emma looked up at the doorway. “Cake?”

“I made a sponge a couple of days ago. Would you like a slice?” Regina asked again.

“Sure, thanks. How’s Henry?”

“Absorbed in all sorts of gruesome information but he doesn’t seem bothered by everything he’s learning, so I suppose that’s a blessing. Or a concern,” she added.

Emma chuckled, despite everything whirling around in her brain. The two women had often remarked at the way in which their son had always seemed drawn to the macabre. If Henry hadn’t been such a kind and thoughtful child, they might have cause for concern. Luckily, in all other areas of psychopathy, he scored very low so the chances of him becoming a serial killer were minimal. 

Returning shortly with two cake slices on plates, Regina handed one to Emma before stooping to place another log on the crackling fire and then resuming her place on the couch. They ate in silence, one that wasn’t entirely comfortable but which neither woman could think how to break. 

With her plate clean, Regina reached for her book and began to read again. Soon enough, she became reabsorbed in the plot and almost forgot that Emma was in the room. Except the sensation of being observed was apparent. She didn’t dare look up but she could tell emerald orbs were fixed on her. Not in a creepy way. It was something Emma liked to do; to watch, to observe, to take in. Regina was used to being the object of Emma’s gaze and for years it had made her feel loved, special, sexy. Now, however, she got the feeling that the gaze was pre-empting something. Their previous conversation, both women knew, wasn’t quite finished. 

So when Emma’s next words were muttered, Regina was surprised. 

“I’m going to bed.”

“Already?” A glance at the clock on the mantlepiece told Regina it was barely eight thirty.

Emma shrugged. “Long day. Might as well turn in.”

“I’ll come up with you. The guest room bed isn’t made,” Regina offered, placing the bookmark between the pages and getting to her feet.

“It’s ok, I can make the bed up myself. I mean, if that’s ok with you?”

“Emma, I have nothing hidden from you in the airing cupboard,” Regina sighed. “I have nothing hidden from you at all, in fact. You don’t need to feel like a stranger in this house.”

“Even though I no longer live here,” Emma replied in a flat tone.

Regina took a breath before answering. “Emma, you know why I made the decision I did. You know why I asked you to move out and I can’t apologise for how I feel.”

“I know,” Emma said quickly. “And I don’t. You had every right to kick me out, even if I wish you hadn’t. But I get why you did and I don’t blame you. The blame lies with me.”

“And I still feel the way I did back in November. That hasn’t changed. However, we are where we are and the three of us are going to be under the same roof for a few days. If we can make this as easy and as comfortable as possible, I think that’s best. So, I’m going to come upstairs and make the guest bed for you not because you’re a guest but because you are truly terrible at making the bed and you know I can’t abide the thought of anyone sleeping on crumpled sheets. Goodness knows what your bed in your new place is like.”

Emma let out a short laugh, even though the answer she wanted to give to Regina’s non-question was ‘empty’. But she didn’t. She nodded her consent and followed Regina from the room, up to the spare room which was rarely used. In the early years of their marriage, Regina’s parents would come to stay twice a year but since their deaths, overnight visitors had been few and far between. Emma had no family to speak of and most of their friends lived nearby and therefore had no need for a room. 

She stood, somewhat awkwardly, in the doorway as Regina shook out the fresh sheets and set about making the bed in her methodical manner. Emma watched, remembering how the brunette had enacted this same routine every Sunday night, crisp linens smoothed with care before the two of them climbed into bed together, sealing the end of another weekend. Now Emma was used to crawling into, yes, an unmade bed, sheets washed at best every two weeks, one side of the bed cold and lonely, reminding her every time she rolled over of what she had lost.

“There you go,” Regina announced, straightening up as she finished plumping the last pillow. “Do you need pyjamas?”

“Just an old t-shirt will be fine,” Emma shrugged. “But, um, I am going to need to borrow some underwear the next few days.”

“Take whatever you want from my wardrobe,” Regina replied, not wanting to dwell on their shelter in place directive. “Towels in the airing cupboard and all clean. There are new toothbrushes -”

“Under the sink,” Emma interrupted. “I know. Thanks.”

Regina nodded once more, hesitated for a moment, then made for the door. Emma stepped aside to let her pass. In the hallway, Regina paused. 

“Good night, Emma.”

“Night, Regina.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As with all subject matters which I broach for stories, I do my best to research them before setting out to increase my chances of portraying situations realistically. However, this is fiction and I am just writing for pleasure at the weekends so please do bear this in mind. Thanks! Stay home, stay safe!


	5. Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Only a handful of people have guessed Emma’s addiction – good job! I guess this also means there aren’t enough stories about this around so I hope I do the subject matter justice!

A guest in her own house. Emma glowered at herself in the mirror above the sink as she brushed her teeth. How had it come to this? Well, she knew exactly how, if she was honest. A massive fuck-up on her behalf and then, presumably, a massive fuck-up at the chemical plant. Only one of those she was able to take responsibility for but between the two events, she now found herself facing several days trapped under the roof of a woman whom she was still in love with and yet had no hope of a future.

Sure, Henry had hope. That kid was so optimistic that his mothers would get back together. Emma couldn’t blame him. The split had come out of the blue for the boy and without knowing the background of why Regina had asked, begged, Emma to leave, he had no reason to think that their problems were insurmountable.

Emma spat out the foaming toothpaste and rinsed the head of the new brush before picking up a flannel and starting to wash her face, recommencing her train of thought.

If Henry knew the truth, however, he may not be so hopeful. More than that, he may not want Emma to move back in. He may not want Emma in his life at all. That was why the blonde was doing as much as she could to try and atone for her mistakes, to cover up the betrayal before Henry found out. Seven years; that’s how long she had to try and make up for what she had done and avoid devastating her son’s future.

No, Regina would never let that happen. She’d find a way, in spite of Emma’s actions. Regina would never let their son be negatively impacted, to the best of her ability, by what Emma had done. But that wasn’t what Emma wanted. It was her responsibility, her duty to do whatever it took to restore Henry’s future. A future she had put in jeopardy.

Wringing the flannel out, Emma hung it on the rail and drained the warm, soapy water from the sink. Out in the landing, she paused, listening to see if she could hear Regina moving around. Silence. Assuming the brunette had returned downstairs to the warmth and comfort of the fire, Emma peered around the ajar door to the master bedroom and, as she expected, found it empty.

As quickly as possible, she crossed the room and rummaged in the drawers for an old t-shirt to sleep in. Next was underwear. She’d rather be able to get dressed in the morning without interrupting Regina. The drawer slid open, revealing the neat piles of lace and silk. Her eyes fluttered closed, regret flowing through her veins.

Not that it was only sex with Regina that she missed. Emma missed everything about their marriage. Their relationship was pretty much perfect. Well, aside from that massive, life-changing secret which Emma harboured for a few weeks before confessing and devastating their family. But on top of everything else, Emma had to admit she did miss falling asleep with Regina in her arms, a tangle of satiated, sweaty limbs intertwined beneath messy sheets.

Grabbing the top pair of underwear, Emma closed the drawer and retreated quickly from the room. Minutes later, she was sliding into cool, crisp linens, her bare legs welcoming the freshness. God, Regina made a bed well, she mused as she snuggled down beneath the duvet and turned on her side. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come.

* * *

The fire began to die down. A glance at the clock told Regina there was no point putting more wood on it as she would be going to bed herself shortly. Emma had departed two hours earlier and she had checked on Henry shortly after nine, finding the boy passed out in his bed, iPad resting on nightstand still displaying information about historic chemical disasters. She had turned off the screen, kissed his warm forehead and tiptoed from the room.

She continued reading until the end of the chapter but if someone had asked her what her book was about, she’d struggle to tell them. While her eyes passed over the words, making sense of the letters, her brain failed to process what she was reading. Her mind kept wandering, up through the floorboards to the woman who was sleeping above her. It had been months since Emma had spent the night in the house. Although it was true that Regina had been the one to call an end to the marriage, to ask Emma to leave, to file for divorce, that didn’t mean she didn’t miss Emma being in the family home.

That first night, after Emma’s confession, Regina had cried into her pillow for hours. She woke after just a couple of hours sleep, puffy eyed, and remembered all over again. The following days crawled by, turning into painful weeks full of arguments, tears, guilt, betrayal. And then she couldn’t take it any more, her heart too fragile to keep seeing Emma. The night the blonde left, two suitcases carried down the garden path to her beaten up old yellow beetle, Regina had cried into her pillow once more. And many nights afterwards.

Yes, she wanted Emma gone. Yes, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to trust Emma again. Yes, it was her decision to stop trying to move forwards, to overcome this chasm which had opened between them. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t devastated. She grieved their marriage for weeks, a concerned Henry peering into rooms before entering in case he came across her crying, as he had done in the early days after Emma’s departure.

But slowly, things had started to get better. Life without Emma became familiar. Quieter and more mundane, a certain melancholy to their days, but familiar nonetheless. The women, through amicable texts and phone calls, established their rhythm for shared childcare. Henry flitted back and forth with ease, happy to be spending time with Emma again. The questions about why they had broken up started as soon as Emma had moved out. Regina couldn’t tell him the truth but time with his blonde mother abated him.

Over time, however, she had begun to wonder whether she cared far more than Henry about what Emma had done. At the age of eleven, would the gravity of the situation be comprehended? She doubted it. And as such, she had decided to be angry enough for both of them. Although that anger, which bubbled inside and had sustained her through those difficult few weeks, had now started to subside. At first it was overtaken by sadness but now the overwhelming feeling which she was left with was regret. Regret of Emma’s actions, of course, but also regret of her own.

For surely she must have done something, said something, which made Emma decide not to come to Regina when she first slipped. If Emma had done that, if she had confided in Regina, perhaps things wouldn’t have got as bad as they did. But Emma didn’t. She struggled, and succumbed, alone. She kept Regina at arm’s length, away from the truth. Yes, over the past month, Regina had started to feel a deep sense of regret at failing to be the sort of wife Emma had needed, regret at being incapable of supporting Emma through her temptations.

A sound from the hallway made Regina jump. Placing the bookmark between the pages, knowing she’d have to reread the chapter again tomorrow, she got to her feet and made her way through to the kitchen where she could hear water running.

“You’re still awake.”

Emma turned, face white in the dark room. “Thirsty,” she offered, holding up the dripping glass.

“Can’t sleep?”

Crossing to sit at the dining table, Emma sighed. “No. To be honest, I’ve not been sleeping great since … you know.”

Regina reached for a switch and bathed the room in a light which was too bright, considering the time of night and conversation, but she sat down anyway. Emma suddenly realised that she was only wearing and old t-shirt and wished she’d asked Regina if she could borrow a spare robe. Her outfit felt inappropriate.

“I’ve not slept great either, since you left. And when I do fall asleep, every sound wakes me.”

“Do you feel unsafe here?” Emma asked. “I can install cameras, if you like.”

But Regina shook her head. “It’s not that. I guess I’m not used to sleeping alone. I’m sure it will become easier, with time.”

“Yeah,” Emma nodded, eyes downcast, gazing at a scratch on her thigh which she must have sustained during their mountain biking exploration that afternoon. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Well, I’m heading up again. May as well try to sleep, right?”

As Emma got to her feet, Regina’s gaze zoned in on the expanse of pale, smooth skin suddenly at eye level. She blinked and looked away quickly, hoping Emma hadn’t noticed. Mumbling goodnight, Emma headed towards the door but before she could reach it, Regina spoke again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Emma asked, turning to look at the woman who was facing away from her.

“About the gambling.”

“I did tell you,” Emma frowned. “Big fight, screaming, crying, me leaving the house, divorce, remember?”

“You told me eventually. But that was after you’d already hit rock bottom. It’s a slippery slope, I know that. I know about addiction, Emma. Believe me, I’ve read all the books. What I want to know is why you didn’t tell me at the start. When you first slipped, that first bet, why didn’t you tell me then? Why wait until the damage is so great that it’s a betrayal you must have known we’d never come back from.”

Emma took a sip of her water before answering. “I thought I had it under control,” she said. “I thought it was a one time thing and that I’d dealt with it. I went to a meeting that night and the next morning on my way to work. I did everything right. But, well, I guess I didn’t since I was back at it less than a day later.”

“Yes, but why didn’t you tell me?” Regina asked, turning in her chair. Emma was shocked to see tears running down Regina’s cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me what was going on? The last time you started gambling again, you told me straight away.”

“The last time I slipped it was five hundred bucks on the Superbowl,” Emma replied. “That didn’t seem like such a big deal.”

“How much did you lose, that first night?”

Emma shrugged. “I dunno. Couple of hundred maybe?”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Regina asked, standing up and crossing to stand right in front of Emma. “Two hundred dollars is nothing, Emma. If you had come to me, we could have fixed this. We could have worked through it together. Don’t you see that? If you hadn’t waited, if you hadn’t tried to deal with this on your own, without me, without your family, maybe we wouldn’t be in the mess we’re in. Why didn’t you trust me, Emma? What did I do to make you unable to tell me?”

Tears glittered in Emma’s eyes now, seeing the anguish on Regina’s face as she searched for answers. Emma had never considered the possibility of Regina blaming herself. It was Emma’s mistake, after all. Regina had done nothing wrong and should feel no responsibility or guilt for what had happened.

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered, words catching in her throat. “I should have told you.”

“Yes,” Regina said, her whole body sagging as she breathed out that single word. “You should have. If you had, things would be so different.”

She moved to step around Emma and out of the kitchen but a hand clasped around her wrist as she reached the darkness of the hall. “Not telling you is the biggest regret of my life,” Emma said. “And if I had a time machine or a magic potion to reverse that decision, I would do. I would do anything to undo what I did, Regina. I would do anything to help you begin to forgive me. But you cannot blame yourself for what happened. You were, and are, the perfect wife. My mid-judged decision to not tell you is on me, not you. Never blame yourself for my actions. Believe me, I blame me enough for the both of us.”

Regina’s eyes, shining through the gloom, searched Emma’s face. A hand came up and cupped the strong jaw, thumb brushing away the tear streaks. “Nobody’s perfect, Emma,” she whispered. “But we used to make each other better people. I’m sorry we lost that.”

Before Emma could answer, Regina dropped her hand and pulled her wrist from the blonde’s loose grasp, retreating upstairs. Seconds later, the door to the master bedroom closed with a gentle click, leaving Emma quite alone in the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know, I like to make my fun escapist fic angsty for you! Sorry not sorry!


	6. Clutz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Easter! This chapter is definitely T-rated. Probably not quite suitable for work but not up to my usual smutty standards!

Through the darkness, she stared up at the ceiling. Flat on her back, hands resting on top of the duvet, she let out a little huff of irritation. She hated not being able to sleep. And now she was thinking about the fact that she couldn’t sleep which meant sleep was definitely going to continue to elude her. She glowered at nothing before shutting her eyes firmly, defiantly. 

But they opened again after just a few seconds, drifting towards the closed bedroom door. Silence shrouded the house beyond. Shortly after she had climbed into bed, the creak of the floorboard down the landing had told Regina that Emma had made her way back upstairs and into the guest bedroom. That meant the blonde was lying just a few metres away from her. In that baggy t-shirt, long legs tangled in the fresh bedsheets. 

Regina squirmed slightly, hating the way her body reacted to easily to the image. No, she didn’t hate her body for feeling that way. She understood it. The response was familiar, almost primal. For most of her adult life, for sixteen years, Emma’s body had been something she was intimately acquainted with. Sex had been an important, wonderful part of their relationship. The two of them only started to wear pyjamas to bed after Henry, as a toddler, became mobile enough to appear in their bedroom at ungodly hours in the morning. 

The feel of warm, smooth skin, draped across her own was how Regina had woken up for so long that for weeks after Emma moved out, she had turned to look for the blonde when she had awoken cold in the mornings. Her absence, her physical absence, hurt just as much as the emotional loss. 

But now Emma was back, temporarily. And lying, in the next room, wearing only a tattered old t-shirt which Regina usually donned to deep clean the house. There had been a scratch, Regina noticed, part way up Emma’s slender thigh. Not deep, just the result of a bramble catching as the woman, in doubtless recklessness, cycled with their son that afternoon. 

Regina had never been the mother who took Henry out for days of dangerous adventure. Although Emma assured her that there was nothing dangerous about the activities they did. And to be fair, Henry had never returned injured. Just the odd bump or scrape, expected when raising a young child. In fact, it was Emma who was more likely to get hurt. The woman was ridiculously clumsy. 

As she chuckled to herself about the blonde’s butterfingers, a loud thud followed by a swear word could be heard. Sitting up abruptly, she strained to listen to what was happening. A moment later, a door opened and footsteps could be heard in the hallway. Regina hesitated before swinging her legs out of bed and going to investigate what was causing the disturbance. 

A glow from the guest bathroom told her Emma was the culprit, as expected. Just as Regina began to walk towards the room, Emma emerged, holding a hand towel.

“Shit, did I wake you?” she asked, as she spotted the woman before her.

“No, I wasn’t asleep yet. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I knocked over my glass of water. Just wanted to get the worst of it out of the carpet. Don’t worry, I’ve got this. You can go back to bed.”

Heading back into the guest room, Emma flicked on the bedside lamp and dropped to her knees, starting to soak up the spilled liquid with the towel. Regina, who had followed her in, bent to pick up the glass. 

“I’ll get you a refill,” she murmured, trying and failing to avoid gazing at the curve of Emma’s ass as she worked. 

“Thanks,” Emma replied, patting the carpet hard to speed up the absorption process. 

By the time Regina returned, most of the water had been drawn away from the cream surface, leaving only a faint outline which betrayed where the liquid had fallen. Emma went to the bathroom to deal with the towel, leaving Regina standing, fresh glass of water in hand at the side of the bed. 

Her eyes drifted to the bed, covers thrown back on one side. Emma’s side. The other half of the bed was untouched. It was a mirror image to her own bedroom. Once or twice she would wake to find herself having migrated over to the space which Emma once used to occupy but mostly she stayed firmly on ‘her’ side of the bed. It looked like Emma did too.

When Emma returned, she stopped in the doorway when she realised Regina hadn’t moved. The brunette just seemed to be staring at nothing. Well, at the bed.

“Um, thanks for the water,” Emma said at last, walking further into the room and gesturing to the glass of Regina’s hand.

The words jolted the brunette from her reverie. “Oh, you’re welcome.” She thrust the glass out towards Emma who took it and placed it back on the coaster on the bedside table.

“Well, sorry to have disturbed you. I’ll try and not be such a clutz next time I want a drink.”

“It’s fine. Like I said, I wasn’t asleep.”

“No, me neither,” Emma said.

They fell silent, neither sure what to say next. And both women taking in the fact that they were stood, barely a meter apart, right next to a bed. Emma felt a flush creep up her cheeks which she hoped would be hidden in the dimness of the room, herself silhouetted against the warm glow of the bedside lamp. She averted her gaze from the bed, skimmed quickly over Regina, who was looking back at the sheets, and fixed instead on a point just above the doorframe. That seemed safe.

Regina, on the other hand, was unable to tear her eyes away from the bed. She could imagine the faint scent of Emma, lingering on the fabric after just a few short hours, her body heat still faint on the high thread count. Her own body heat rose at the thought, at the memories. She knew she should leave. She knew she should turn back around and walk out of the room. She knew what would happen if she didn’t.

Emma remained silent, fixated on a blank point on the wall, just waiting for Regina to move, to speak. She had no idea what was going through the brunette’s head. She knew what she wanted, what she desperately wanted to happen. Sure, sex wouldn’t resolve their marital issues but having her wife, her beautiful, sensual and clearly aroused wife standing so close to her had put Emma’s entire body on edge. She needed release. If Regina did turn around to walk out, Emma was confident she’d be bringing herself to climax shortly afterwards.

But that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted Regina. She needed Regina. And yet she wasn’t going to make the first move. She was in no position to suggest any sort of physical intimacy. And, deep down, she knew it was a bad idea for both of them. But logic and reason and rationale at how one night of passion might feel the following morning was eclipsed by the now raging heat which was blossoming between her legs. She didn’t care how much it hurt tomorrow. She didn’t care if it was the only time the two of them slipped and allowed themselves to come together. Her need was primal, desperate. It was in her DNA.

Regina was having the same debate in her own head. The difference was, Regina knew it was up to her what happened next. She could see, out of the corner of her eye, that Emma was glued to the spot. She could also see, through the gloom, that the tell-tale glow of arousal had crept across Emma’s high cheekbones. There was no doubt that each woman wanted the other. Their physical connection had never been severed. It was the emotional part of their relationship which had fallen apart.

And now Regina had to weigh up if giving in to the coiling heat was a good idea or a bad idea. Ok, she knew it was a bad idea. Terrible. It would turn a messy situation messier. Beyond messier. It would be impossible. And that was at the best of times, when Emma could leave the house, not when she was trapped under their old family roof for the foreseeable future. One mistake, one slip back between the sheets, under normal circumstances she could possibly justify but this was ridiculous. 

She clenched her jaw, knowing she had to make the right decision not just for herself but for Henry and Emma too. Sure, her body was screaming at her to launch herself at the blonde, to feel that delicious, toned form against her once more, to give in to those familiar, knowledgeable fingers, that determined tongue, the love which she knew Emma still felt for her. But she couldn’t. For every other reason her mind was screaming at her, for her own sanity, she knew she had to leave.

The words were forced out. “Good night, then.”

It was a self-dismissal. Except her feet didn’t move. Instead, she found herself shifting her gaze from the bed to Emma whose green eyes had found her once more.

“Good night, Regina.”

And yet neither woman moved. Emma held her breath as she watched Regina’s gaze drift down her body. She knew that look. She knew what Regina was thinking. And while she desperately wanted Regina to lose control, to take a step towards her, a voice piped up in the depths of her mind. A voice of rationality, one which Emma rarely heard from and berated for its atrocious timing, even as the words slipped from her lips.

“It’s a bad idea.”

Chocolate eyes snapped back up to Emma’s face, followed by Regina taking two quick steps backwards, bumping her hip on the footboard of the bed.

“Yes,” she said, a little too loudly. “Right, um, night.”

She turned on the spot, walking as quickly from the room as possible. Emma watched her go, core aching as the possibility of release left. Hanging her head as soon as the door closed, she let out of a soft groan. Had she just cockblocked herself? And why was there not yet a popular lesbian equivalent to that term?

Climbing into bed, Emma slapped the duvet several times before rolling onto her side and closing her eyes. Moments later, they snapped open. Well, this was pointless, she thought to herself. Rolling onto her front this time, she slid her right hand down her body until she felt her own wet heat against her fingertips. It wasn’t the same as when Regina touched her. Nowhere near as satisfactory. But it was better than nothing and, she hoped, the release she climbed towards and she ground her pelvis against her fingers, would at least allow her to finally find some sleep. 

Minutes later, on the other side of the wall, tears once again streaking olive cheeks, Regina worked herself to her own peak, muffling her cry of pleasure in a pillow. Emma, however, had already finished and the distant sound reached her very faintly through the wall. But it was a noise she’d heard so many times, had been the cause of for countless nights, that she knew exactly what was happening in their marital bed. 

Groaning in renewed arousal and despair at what she had just allowed to walk from her bedroom, Emma’s fingers returned to her core, seeking a pleasure which was never going to be quite what she needed.

Back in Regina’s bedroom, the tears had slowed, a damp patch on the pillow sticking uncomfortably to her cheek. But she didn’t move. She didn’t want to be comfortable, not at the moment. She needed to punish herself for that moment of weakness. It couldn’t happen. She couldn’t allow herself to fall for Emma Swan again. It had been so easy the first time, sixteen years earlier. But she was older now, wiser. She had a child to think about. She couldn’t give her heart back to Emma because she couldn’t risk it breaking again. 

Loving an addict came with risk. She had always known that, from the moment Emma had told her she was in recovery. And that first slip during their relationship, barely a year after they had got together, had been hard for both of them. But Regina had wanted to persevere, had wanted to support Emma. It took time and effort but they worked through all of the challenges which came their way and together got Emma back on the road to recovery. This time Regina had to think of Henry. He had to come first, not Emma. 

Yes, Emma couldn’t have Regina’s heart again. The problem was, unbeknownst to the brunette, she had never truly taken it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, how is lockdown going for you?


	7. Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy weekend! I hope everyone’s living their best lockdown life. Whether that’s learning French, binge-watching Netflix, home-schooling kids or just getting through the day!

She was awoken after what felt like just a few minutes of sleep. In reality, she’d managed to snag four hours but it wasn’t enough. Emma had laid in bed staring at the ceiling until after three in the morning, hands curled into fists as she fought against her instinct to get up, walk down the corridor and knock gently on Regina’s bedroom door. Every bone in her body ached to do just that but the blonde knew it was a terrible idea. And so she had stayed, lying in bed, refusing to give into her instincts, her urge to go to her wife. Yet sleep had evaded her too and it was only when exhaustion finally became too much that she slipped into unconsciousness.

Now she was awake once more, the sound of movement from the kitchen directly below her obviously what had roused her. It was a familiar set of noises; ones she had woken up to for years. Regina had always been an early riser while Emma could happily lounge in bed until late morning. When Henry came along, Emma struggled to adjust her body clock to the habits of having a child in the house but dragged herself out of bed as a mark of solidarity and helped Regina with those morning routines.

She could imagine exactly what was happening below her. Coffee already brewing on the side, a selection of breakfast options for Henry (and once Emma, too), arranged on the dining table. Cutlery and crockery ready to be used. It was traditional, domestic, and something Emma loved. And missed.

The waft of bacon, unmistakable, suddenly registered with the younger woman. Her mouth watered. She loved bacon. And somehow Regina always cooked it better than she could do herself. Perfectly crispy and juicy without dripping with oil. Maybe if she played her cards right Regina would cook her some. No, that was stupid. She couldn’t ask Regina to do that. She’d cook her own bacon.

Climbing out of bed, she got dressed in yesterday’s clothes, with only a new set of underwear on. The silk felt cool against her skin. She tried not to think about the fact that she was wearing Regina’s underwear. The fantasy of men by which lesbians wore one another’s panties had never been a reality in the Swan-Mills house. So to feel the delicate material, laying intimately against her core, sent a light shiver down Emma’s back as she hurriedly pulled on the rest of the clothes and tried to forget about the blue fabric.

* * *

Regina hummed softly under her breath, sliding the eggs around the frying pan and avoiding the spitting oil which sailed through the air. Satisfied, she removed the pan from the heat and turned to the toaster from which she removed the four perfectly browned slices. A morning greeting from the doorway as she was buttering them made her turn around.

“Good morning. You’re just in time,” she offered, placing the toast on the waiting plates and then adding the other elements.

“You cooked me breakfast?” Emma asked, making her way further into the kitchen which smelled nothing short of heaven.

“I did,” Regina replied. “And when our son eventually rouses himself, probably shortly before midday, I’ll cook him something as well. One egg or two?”

“Two please,” Emma said, suddenly ravenous despite the early hour. “Um, why are you doing this?”

Regina shrugged as she finished plating up the cooked breakfast and carried both over to the dining table where the coffee was waiting to be poured. “When was the last time you had a proper breakfast?”

“I eat breakfast before work every day,” Emma pointed out.

Dark eyebrows arched. “Fruit loops?”

“Sometimes.”

Now chocolate eyes rolled. “You’re such a child. Sugary cereals do not count as a healthy start to the day.”

Emma grinned. “Yeah but they’re delicious.”

Marvelling at how the blonde stayed so trim with such a poor diet, Regina sat down in her chair, shaking her head in mild disbelief. Emma took a seat as well, eyes widening as she took in the feast in front of her.

“Seriously, what brought this on?” Emma asked as she picked up her cutlery and dug into the dish, a generous spread of eggs, bacon, fried mushrooms and toast.

Regina swallowed her first mouthful before answering. “I woke up early and decided to just start the day. I fancied eggs and bacon and I knew the smell would wake you up.”

“It did but that doesn’t explain why you cooked my food too.”

Regina laid down her cutlery for a moment, allowing herself to really take in the woman before her, blonde hair still tousled from sleep. “I guess I wanted to apologise.”

“Apologise? For what?” Emma frowned.

“For last night. I shouldn’t have said what I did about you not telling me. I know it’s not as simple as that. I don’t blame you for keeping it a secret, even if I wish you hadn’t. It wasn’t fair of me to put that on you and act as if I could have been some sort of saviour. Telling me might not have made a difference and I shouldn’t presume to think that it would have.”

“Regina, telling you would have made a difference,” Emma said quickly. “You know I wish I had told you sooner. And had I done so, you would have been able to help me. You would have helped me to save myself, so in a way you would have been a saviour. It was my fault that I waited until I was past the point of saving. Or at least until the only person who could save me was me. You’ve got nothing to apologise for. I’m the one who should be apologising.”

Regina said nothing, just gazed down into her food. Emma hesitated for a moment and then resumed eating. After a while, Regina did the same. They ate in silence until their plates were empty, at which point Emma set about doing the washing up. Regina remained seated at the dining table, now watching the blonde move with familiarity around their family kitchen.

It wasn’t until everything was washed up that the silence was broken. “So, I guess I’ll cook my apology breakfast tomorrow morning,” Emma said, hooking the dish cloth over the neck of the tap.

“Does pouring a bowl of cereal count as cooking?” Regina quipped.

Emma grinned. “No but I think pancakes do. How does that sound?”

“Henry loves your pancakes,” Regina reminisced.

“And you?”

“I like them too,” Regina admitted. “Ok, apology pancakes tomorrow.”

“Why? What are you apologising for now, Ma?”

Both women turned to see their son, bed hair even more spectacular than Emma’s, yawning in the doorway.

“Oh, nothing,” Emma replied quickly. “How did you sleep? You’re up early.”

“Hansel called my cell and it woke me up. His dad is freaking out about the chemical leak and is making them hide in the basement. He wanted to know if my moms thought it was the end of the world too.”

“Did you tell him we’ll be fine and that this will all be over in a few days?”

“Nah, I told him that benzene was super poisonous and could cause cancer and super bad health stuff,” Henry replied, shuffling into the room.

“Henry!” both women exclaimed.

The almost teenager rolled his eyes. “Chill, Moms. Of course I told him it would be fine. His dad is super paranoid and I’m not an idiot. I wasn’t going to make him feel worse. Can I smell bacon? Can I have bacon?”

Regina set about cooking her son some food while Emma sat down beside their son and finished her coffee. Within ten minutes, Henry had wolfed down his breakfast and disappeared, muttering something about playing Xbox.

“Has he showered since the cycle ride?” Regina asked, wrinkling her nose as she cleared his plate.

“Nope,” Emma replied. “He smells.”

“He does. Is this what raising a teenage boy is going to be like?”

“Yep,” Emma nodded. “Believe me, I lived with some lads who had no concept of personal hygiene in the foster home when I was about fifteen. It impacted me in two ways. One, I don’t think my sense of smell has ever recovered. Pretty sure their pong singed off my sensors.”

Regina chuckled. “And the other one?”

“Oh, it definitely turned me gay. After living with that many disgusting teenage boys there was no way I ever wanted to be in a relationship with a man.”

Regina’s laugh deepened. Emma had many amusing theories about what made her a lesbian. Of course, both women believed that sexuality wasn’t something anyone chose but Emma liked to point to various life experiences as markers which ratified her romantic relationships which had been exclusively with women. Regina, on the other hand, had dated a few men in her early twenties. Emma was the second woman she had been in a relationship with. As far as Regina was concerned, it was the person, not their genitals, to which she was drawn.

When the laughter abated, a slightly awkward silence settled. Emma was trying to work out what to say next while Regina’s mind had wandered to whether Emma was starting to date again. And if she was, how did she feel about that? It was the blonde who recommenced the conversation. “So, I guess you’re not going to work today?”

“No, do you not remember the shelter in place announcement about the cancerous chemical leak?” Regina asked, head cocked. “The college sent an email out last night. The campus is in lockdown and we’re not expected to return to teaching until the restrictions are lifted. You won’t be able to go to work either.”

“Yeah, I know. I was just … I mean … what do we do now?”

“Well, I think I’m going to check my email, put together some work for my students to do from home and then settle down on the couch to read a book and take advantage of this unexpected time out of the office. What about you?”

Emma shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t have anything to do.”

“No work which you could do remotely?”

“I don’t have my laptop.”

“You could borrow Henry’s.”

Emma shook her head. “It’s fine. August emailed yesterday to check I was ok. He said there’s nothing urgent so it can wait until I’m back in the office. Since this is an isolated incident, the markets are holding.”

“How is your work going?”

“It’s good,” Emma smiled. “We’re looking to open a second branch by the end of the year. We’ve got several clients in Portland, so it makes sense to have a base there as well now. Plus, we can expand the team and bring on additional account managers who can be more hands on and provide a more personalised service.”

Emma had been working for the past few years with a sustainable investment firm. She had joined the initiative early and soon became integral to the company, second only to the CEO, August Booth, whom Emma had met while doing her Masters. It was work which both challenged her and fulfilled her desire to make the world a better place, first and foremost by diverting funds away from fossil fuels and towards renewable energy initiatives.

“That’s great news. I’m really pleased for you.”

“Thanks. And the college, is that going well?”

“Same as always. I’m already looking forward to the summer break. Finals are around the corner so my students are all just studying now. These few days inside might actually be of benefit to them. At least they’ll have no excuse to get drunk and not open a book.”

“Yeah, um, do you remember college? Students don’t need a reason to get drunk. And if they did, quarantine would be the perfect one. Sorry to break it to you but I’m pretty sure they’re not nose deep in books right now.”

Regina nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“So I guess I’ve just got a few days off to relax. In your house, sorry about that.”

“No need to apologise; it’s not your fault.”

“I know but it’s less than ideal.”

“Honestly, I think I’d rather you were here than alone in your apartment,” Regina said, the words falling out before she could stop them.

Emma blinked. “You would? Why?”

The faintest tinge of pink spread up Regina’s olive cheeks. “Just, you know, so I can be sure you’re safe. And not lonely.”

“You want to keep me safe?”

“From cancer-causing chemicals? Yes, Emma, I want to keep you safe.”

Emma nodded slowly. “And you don’t want me to be lonely?”

This was straying into uncomfortable territory, Regina mused. But she answered the question anyway. “I want you to be happy, Emma. I’ve always wanted you to be happy, even if that happiness doesn’t come from me.”

“It does,” Emma blurted out. “You do make me happy. And not lonely. I could never feel lonely when I’m with you. Or unhappy. Regina, I -”

“No, Emma. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said any of that.”

“Because it’s not true?”

“Because now isn’t the right time to talk about this.” She spun on her heels and headed for the hallway.

“This being the possibility of us getting back together?”

Regina froze in the doorway. Emma was holding her breath, unsure what to expect from her question. Slowly, Regina turned on the spot.

“Emma, I want you to be safe and happy and to have someone in your life who makes you feel special. I used to be that person for you but-”

“You still are,” Emma interrupted.

“But,” Regina repeated firmly, “but that’s what I want for myself too and you’re no longer that person for me, Emma. I used to feel safe with you. You made me happy and you made me feel like the most special person in the world. But I don’t feel that any more. I’m not saying everything we used to share has disappeared overnight. The end of a long term relationship marriage doesn’t work like that and I know it’s going to take time. That said, the reason I asked you to move out hasn’t changed, Emma. I can’t trust you. And as a result of that I can’t feel safe with you any more. So you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need to, for as long as the shelter in place instructions remain. I’m happy you’re here because I still do care about you and I don’t want you to be alone during something like this. But that doesn’t mean I’m inviting you back as my wife. We’re getting divorced, Emma. You have to start accepting that.”

Unable to look at the distraught woman for a moment longer, Regina turned and resumed her journey to he study, leaving Emma standing in the kitchen, tears streaming down those high cheekbones. As the brunette walked away, her body trembled. The words she said were true. It was how she felt. But they also didn’t eclipse all of the other confused emotions she felt for Emma.

If Henry wasn’t in the picture, would she give Emma a second chance? Well, a third chance. Emma’s second chance had been after her first relapse when she had started gambling early on in their relationship. But now, Regina had to think about Henry too. It was true; she didn’t feel safe with Emma, without the blonde having control over her addiction. Emma’s addiction threatened their family and Regina couldn’t risk that. The blonde had to leave. But that didn’t mean that Regina’s heart hadn’t been torn in two to make that choice. Emma had left with packed suitcases and fragments of a broken heart. Those pieces, still clutched in Emma’s fingers, remained delicate and almost unbearably painful. A few days in lockdown weren’t going to fix anything. Were they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know - angst!


	8. Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Sunday! So, I just write without a plan, as you guys know. And after yesterday’s angsty chapter, I have to confess that I can’t work out how to get our ladies into a place where they can possibly move forwards. But I will! I promise you a happy ending. I just have no clue how I’m going to deliver it!! And on that note … read the A/N at the bottom please!

It took several minutes for Emma to move from where she stood, rooted to the spot in the kitchen. At last, however, she reached up and swiped at her wet cheeks. The dampness was replaced with fresh tears at once. In fact, Emma wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to stop crying. The words had been a sucker punch to the gut. Brutally truthful. Devastatingly honest. Obliterating Emma’s flickering hope of reconciliation, reconnection.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she forced herself to stride from the room, headed up the stairs and straight to the guest bedroom. She didn’t want to see Regina in that moment. And she didn’t want Henry to see her so distraught. Once inside the room, door securely closed behind her, she fell, almost comically but in reality just tragically, face down onto the unmade bed. Tears soaked steadily into the sheets, sobs muffled in the thick duvet. She lay there, shaking, just letting it all out.

Was it a new revelation? Perhaps. Perhaps not. She knew Regina wanted a divorce. Of course she did. She’d been served the papers. That day had been one of the worst of her life. Stark, abrupt words, printed in bold black on crisp white paper. But at the same time it had offered her some clarity. As far as Regina was concerned, their life together was over. It wasn’t Regina’s fault that Emma had failed to truly take that fact on board or had believed there was a way to change Regina’s mind and make up for her mistakes. Until that morning. Until those words.

Regina didn’t trust her. Regina didn’t feel safe with her.

Emma had never once raised a hand to her wife. That wasn’t the safety and trustworthiness to which Regina referred. Regina knew Emma would never, physically, cause her or their son pain or harm. But the fact that she had done so, through her actions, had illustrated to Regina that some things were out of Emma’s control. Her addiction was out of Emma’s control. And that in itself made Regina feel unsafe.

Before, when Emma’s gambling addiction had reared its head, Regina had stood by her side, supported her through the difficult early months of recovery and maintained that support as the slip became a distant memory and the act of getting through the day without placing a bet became easier until she almost didn’t have to think about it. She would never be ‘recovered’. She would always be recovering. But time made the concept of being in recovery easier.

This time, set back to the start, Regina wasn’t offering to help. Regina seemed to think she couldn’t help. Or that it wasn’t worth it to her and to Henry to stick around and try and help the blonde. Maybe that was what hurt Emma the most; the idea that she wasn’t worth it. All her life Emma had struggled with feelings of inadequacy and now here was another person who was saying Emma wasn’t worth their time, their effort. Not in so many words but in her actions, that was what Regina was saying, wasn’t it? Why was Emma not worth it to Regina? Was she hurt? Or was she angry?

No, Emma thought to herself. Regina was choosing Henry over Emma. It wasn’t about Emma. It was about their son. Emma had no right to blame Regina. It wasn’t the brunette’s fault that she had been put in the position where she had to choose between her wife and their son. Emma had made Regina make that choice. Before Henry was born, Regina had the time and energy and capacity to support Emma in the way she needed. Now, Regina didn’t believe she was able to be the pillar of strength which she had once been, not when her responsibility towards her son consumed so much of her life. Emma couldn’t begrudge Regina that. Even if the pain in her heart felt like it may never fade.

* * *

The moment the heavy door to Regina’s study swung shut, she leaned against it and closed her eyes, a quiet, choked sob escaping her. Slowly, she slid down the smooth wood of the door until she was sat against it, knees tucked up against her chest.

Had she really said those words? Had she really expressed herself so abruptly to Emma? They may have been the truth but that was never the way she wanted to tell Emma how she felt. The blonde was fragile, vulnerable at that moment. Not only was she recovering from her recent gambling problem, but she was also trapped in their family home, surrounded by so many memories. Memories which Regina no doubt had just torched; reduced to bitter ashes.

Emma didn’t deserve that. Emma didn’t deserve to be brought to tears at barely eight in the morning by callous, unfiltered words. Emma had always prided herself on her capacity to ‘provide’ for her family. Regina knew it was because the blonde’s own unstable childhood meant all the woman wanted was a family of her own which she could take care of and keep safe. While both women earned good salaries, Emma took particular pride in using her paycheck to build a wonderful life for her wife and son. Regina, who came from money, was more blasé about their comfortable situation and set less store in their financial security.

She knew it was archaic, Emma’s idea of being the main breadwinner, as if she wanted to take on the role of a man in a nuclear family from the 1950s. Except she had never asked Regina not to work, and proudly celebrated the brunette’s own career achievements alongside her own. Emma was simply rather traditional when it came to what a family needed; reliable parents with good jobs. Idealistic, perhaps. But to Emma it was what she had never had and an environment she had always craved and became determined to provide for her own child.

Safety and security were Emma’s bread and butter. They were what she strived for as an adult and she had provided both to Regina and Henry for years. Not only that but she knew Regina had trusted her to be reliable, sensible and always present. And with a few, harsh words, Regina had managed to destroy essentially Emma’s sense of self as a wife and mother.

Those words would have left the blonde feeling shattered. By Regina. Shattered by the thought that she had failed; that she had failed to provide Regina and Henry with the perfect family she had always strived to create.

“Shit,” Regina muttered to herself. “What have I done?”

She pushed herself to her feet and angrily swiped the tears from her own cheeks. The door to the study was thrown open and she hurried down the corridor and up the sweeping staircase, pausing only to make sure that Henry’s bedroom door was closed. He didn’t need to be aware of the difficult circumstances his mothers found themselves in during this quarantine.

* * *

The first knocks went unanswered. Emma’s head, buried in the bedsheets still, failed to register the taps. But the second, slightly louder set, reached her. She raised her tear-stained face and looked over her shoulder.

“Who is it?” she asked, throat sore.

“It’s me.”

Emma didn’t know why she asked. Of course it was Regina. Henry didn’t knock when he entered rooms. There was only one person it could possibly be standing on the other side of the door.

“What do you want?”

There was a pause, as if the brunette didn’t quite know the answer to the question.

“Emma, open the door. Please.”

Pushing herself up, Emma sat on the edge of the bed, hesitating for a moment. No sound came from the other side of the door. She knew Regina wasn’t going anywhere. Sooner or later, the request would come again. And if she did refuse to let her in, it wasn’t like she could avoid the brunette forever. She literally couldn’t leave the house. They were going to have to face one another sooner or later.

She stood, legs trembling slightly. A quick glance in the mirror at the foot of the bed, confirmed Emma’s fear. She looked like crap. Her eyes were red and puffy, creases from where the duvet had been pressed against her cheek faint against her skin. And her hair looked worse than it did when she woke up. But did it even matter? Regina had told her minutes before that their divorce was going ahead. There was nothing for it.

The brunette looked almost surprised when the door swung open. Emma stood in the gap, face blank. No, it wasn’t blank. It was full of pain and resignation.

“Emma, I’m sorry.”

What more could she start with? Emma hesitated for a moment then turned, leaving the door open. Regina entered as the blonde moved out of sight and saw that Emma had set about making the bed. When she said nothing, Regina continued.

“Emma, I didn’t mean to upset you. What I said was harsh and thoughtless. I regret it.”

“Was it true?” Emma asked, slapping a pillow with more force than was necessary and then tossing it on top of its twin at the head of the bed.

“Well, yes, I suppose so. But poorly worded.”

“But true,” Emma repeated. “You don’t trust me. You don’t feel safe with me.”

“I -”

“You don’t want me around any more. You don’t want me around Henry.”

“I’d never stop you from seeing Henry,” Regina said quickly. “You know that.”

“But I’m not trustworthy enough to be part of this family any more.”

“Emma, no. You’ll always be a part of this family. Just because we don’t live together, just because we’re not a couple, that doesn’t mean you are no longer part of my family. You and Henry are my family. You always will be.”

“Until you meet something else.”

There was a pause. Emma had finished making the bed and now sat down heavily on it, staring at the rug beneath her feet. Regina was wondering how to respond to Emma’s comment which was, as far as she was concerned, unrelated to the rest of their conversation.

“That’s not what this is about. I’m not dating, Emma. I have no plans to start dating any time soon. And even if, years down the line, I did begin a new relationship,” at those words, Emma’s heart tightened painfully, “that wouldn’t stop you being Henry’s mother. I could never and would never take that away from you.”

“Right,” Emma gritted out.

“Just in the way you’d never stop being Henry’s mother if you met someone else and chose to have more kids,” Regina added.

“I’m not dating anyone. I don’t want to date anyone. Ever.”

The petulant nature of her statement wasn’t lost on Emma but she didn’t care. It was true. She couldn’t imagine ever being in a place where she felt like she wanted to even contemplate starting another relationship. All she wanted was Regina. All she had ever wanted was Regina. The brunette was in her DNA. She was her soulmate. Nothing before had ever compared to the all-consuming love she shared with her wife and she knew she’d never find another person who made her feel the way Regina made her feel.

Unfortunately, that went both ways. Regina made her feel euphoric, for the most part. But the few times in their relationship when they had quarrelled, the fallout and the pain had been more extreme than she had experienced before. The same went for their breakup. Emma had never felt the sense of loss which washed over her that day when she left the family home. It was a sensation she still felt, thrumming in her veins, and believed she would feel until the end of her life.

“You don’t have to start dating until you’re ready but -”

“I will never be ready,” Emma snapped, gaze now fixed on Regina. “I don’t want to date anyone else, Regina. I can’t. Don’t you get it? I love you. Fuck, I’ll always love you. I don’t want to be with anyone else. I just want you back. Regina,” Emma stood up as her words became more urgent, “tell me what you need me to do. Tell me what I have to do to make you trust me again. What do I have to do? What can I do to prove to you that you’re safe with me? That I won’t slip again.”

“Emma, stop,” Regina said, backing away as the blonde moved towards her.

She did, at once. Feet fused to the rug. In surrender, Emma held up her hands. “I’m not coming closer,” she said, voice suddenly calmer. “I’m not pushing you into anything but I need you to know that I’m not giving up on us. Never, Regina. I’ll never give up on us. I might not be the person who makes you happy now but I used to be and I believe that I can be again. We can work on this. We can work through this and get back to where we were.”

“No, we can’t Emma. We can never go back to what we were before.”

Emma nodded slowly. “Ok, not exactly but we could get back to happiness again, couldn’t we? Our love hasn’t disappeared overnight, has it? I still love you and I know you still love me.”

“Emma.”

The blonde took a step forwards. “Regina, I love you.”

Big brown eyes sparkled again. She scanned Emma’s face, seeing the raw honesty there, feeling the emotions pouring off the woman she knew so well.

“I love you too, but -”

The rest of Regina’s words were swallowed by Emma’s lips which covered the brunette’s mouth as she surged forwards, unable to hold back any longer. She cupped the shorter woman’s jaw tenderly, the kiss insistent and urgent. A whimper followed Regina’s words, muffled in the join of their mouths. The sound reached Emma’s brain slowly, chased by the realisation that Regina wasn’t kissing her back.

She broke the contact, stumbling away with a gasped apology. Regina, rooted to the spot, watched as the blonde staggered into the bed in her haste to get away from her, navigating her way around to the other side so the large mattress was now in between them, physically stopping Emma from making another foolish, unwelcome move.

“Sorry,” she whispered again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

Regina’s heart was hammering so hard against her ribcage that she was surprised Emma couldn’t hear it. Her lips burned, the ghost of Emma’s passion lingering against her tender skin. She watched as Emma turned away from her, distance not enough and unable to even look at Regina.

The ball was firmly in Regina’s court. She had two options; slip from the room and try and deal with how she felt in the privacy of her study while attempting to get on with her work. Or go to Emma and finish that kiss which had set her soul on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: go on then – option one or option two? I’m happy to write either. I’ll start writing on Saturday 25th so you have until then to tell me which way you want this to go. Votes will be counted on all platforms (Fanfiction, AO3, Twitter and Instagram).


	9. Options

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: and the winner is…

The loudest silence filled the room. Regina’s heart continued to pound as she weighed up her dilemma. Reason told her to leave. Logic advised her that staying wasn’t a good idea. But her heart. That tortured, desperate muscle inside her chest, was screaming at her, calling out to the woman who still held such power, such wonderful, intoxicating power over its desires.

At the creek of the floorboard beneath sock-clad feet, Emma’s shoulders stiffened. Regina noticed the reaction, taking in the tense body as she made her way closer.

“Emma,” she murmured when she stood less than two feet from the blonde. There was no answer. From so close, Regina could see the fine hairs on the back of the woman’s neck standing on end, prickled in anticipation. She waited for a response but when she got nothing, she made her request. “Emma, look at me. Please.”

Slowly, eyes downcast, Emma turned obediently on the spot. When those green eyes refused to meet her gaze, Regina stepped a little closer and crooked her finger under Emma’s chin. The tears she saw, both shed and unshed, made Regina’s heart clench, this time in pain rather than arousal. The pad of her thumb brushed the wet streaks from the alabaster skin as she took a step closer. And closer still. Until she was millimetres away from Emma’s body, lips leaning in, pulled by some invisible magnetism back to Emma’s mouth. Until.

“What are you doing?” Emma whispered, panicked eyes flitting across Regina’s face, trying to read the woman, trying to understand what was happening.

The moment broke and the brunette stepped back slightly. “I don’t know,” Regina admitted. “I thought …” she trailed off, unsure what words would correctly convey how she felt.

Emma, initially hopeful at Regina’s approach, now became nervous. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I know you don’t feel that way about me any more.”

“But I do.”

Well, blurting out the truth was one way, Regina mused. Emma’s eyebrows had shot up her forehead at the three little words. “You do?”

Regina sighed and dropped her finger which was still resting beneath Emma’s chin. “I didn’t think I did. But based on the last two minutes, yes, Emma, I do.” She took a step backwards, however, before continuing. “I still love you. That never went away. And I thought it was just the sort of love that separated long-term couples will naturally feel for one another but that kiss … it reminded me of what we shared and how much I do still love you.”

There was another long pause. “What does this mean?” Emma asked at last. “Do you want to get back together?”

“I don’t know,” Regina admitted. “God, this is getting so messy.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, fingers running through her hair. “This isn’t what I wanted to happen.”

Emma didn’t dare speak. This was the first time since she had left the family home that Regina had ever voiced the possibility of any future between them.

“I need some time,” Regina said after almost a minute. “I need to process everything, work out how I’m feeling and what I want and then we can talk about how to get there.”

“Ok,” Emma nodded, feeling the sting of rejection once more but pushing it aside in favour of the silver lining she could now see. “Um, how much time will that take?”

Regina offered a soft smile at the impatient woman. “I don’t know. I don’t want to get your hopes up, Emma.”

Once again, that beautiful blonde face fell. Unable to stand the sadness, Regina stood from the bed, moved straight into Emma’s personal space and kissed her, short and hard. “Be patient with me,” she whispered against the younger woman’s lips. “Please, just give me a little time. I need some space. I don’t want to jump back into anything only for it to fall apart in a few months. For you and Henry as much as for me.”

“Ok,” Emma agreed, fingers vibrating at her sides, desperate to reach out and touch the woman still pressed against her front. “But I need you to know that I want us to get back together. I have no doubts about us, about our marriage. If you decide to try again, I’m all in. I’ll always be all in when it comes to you and Henry.”

Regina cocked her head. “Did you mean to use a gambling term then?”

Emma froze. “No! God, no! I just meant I’m completely committed. To us, to the marriage.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Regina smiled. “I know, dear. I’m just teasing.”

Teasing? That had to be a good sign, surely. Even if it was in rather bad taste considering her recent history. Nevertheless Emma felt a spike of optimism but just as that happened, Regina stepped away from her, breaking the delicious body contact they had been enjoying.

“I’d better go. Work. Um, do you need anything?”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t need anything except my family back.”

The gentle way the blonde murmured those words sent a tingle down Regina’s spine. Perhaps against her better judgement but spurred wholly by that expressive muscle in her chest, she moved back towards the blonde.

This time, their kiss saw Emma’s lips unmoving for the first few seconds until she registered what was happening. Regina let out a light sigh as Emma’s arms wrapped around her, the familiar embrace and the feel of the woman reminding her of, well, home. Emma held her more tenderly than she once used to, however, as if she was worried that Regina might break, or pull away if Emma held on too tightly. But Regina could tell that if Emma had her way, the kiss would never end.

In fairness, it was a damn good kiss. Emma had always been a great kisser and Regina melted into the woman when she felt those pale pink lips part and suck her own plump lower lip between them. She pressed herself a little closer, core suddenly aflame with desire. Golden locks were tangled in her fingers as she tugged lightly on Emma’s hair, staking her claim, reminding the younger woman of their fiery, passionate past.

And then the kiss ended, lips parted with reluctance from both parties but a mutual understanding that this wasn’t the way. Falling back into bed together, although undeniably desirable and enjoyable, was not a long term solution. Regina needed time. Emma needed to process. And a lot more talking needed to be done.

Regina stepped back, fingers touching her lips which curled into a slow smile. “I’ve missed you,” came the whispered admittance.

“I’ve missed you too,” Emma replied.

The brunette allowed herself one more long look at the blonde before turning and heading for the door. Just before she reached it, however, Emma spoke.

“I need you to be sure.”

“Pardon?”

“Whatever you decide, I need you to be sure. I’ve already told you I want to try again and I will do anything I can to make this marriage work. But if you can’t promise me the same, then I can’t do this. It will take both of us to make any sort of relationship a success and whichever way you choose, I have to know that you’re committed. If you don’t see a future for us, I’ll be devastated but I’ll understand and we’ll work as a team to do whatever is best for Henry. But if you do want us to try again, we’re both going to need to give everything we’ve got. I’m not half-assing anything here, Regina, and I couldn’t bear to think of you doing so.”

Regina took in the blonde who spoke with such determination but whose words were laced with fear. She understood. Emma wanted more than anything for their marriage to work. She would do anything for Regina to forgive her. But she also knew that a reconciliation which was not completely genuine, in which simmering resentment remained, would be a house of cards. And Emma’s heart wasn’t strong enough to survive its eventual collapse. Nor, Regina mused, was her own.

“I promise,” Regina said eventually. I’ll see you later, Emma.”

* * *

But she didn’t see her later. When Regina emerged from her office to make some lunch, after a thoroughly unproductive morning, the only person she found in the downstairs of the house was Henry who was sat in the lounge playing a video game.

“Where’s your ma?” she asked, collecting up the glasses and plates which lay scattered around her son.

“Upstairs, I think. Did you guys fight?”

“No, why?”

“When I saw her, her eyes were all red, like she’d been crying,” Henry explained, gaze not moving away from the screen.

Regina hated that her son was old enough to be aware of their emotions. Ok, perhaps it was good for children to know their parents were human, but she didn’t like to think that he was exposed to the sadness their separation had caused.

“Did you eat lunch?” she asked, avoiding the statement.

Henry nodded. “Ma made me a sandwich.”

“And what are these plates?”

Glancing at the two other plates his mother was holding, Henry paused before answering. “Cheese. And Ma made me eat some fruit.” His nose wrinkled at the mere thought of anything remotely healthy. Regina, on the other hand, was pleased to see Emma was enforcing some semblance of a balanced diet for their son.

“Ok, well, could you please bring these through to the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher. I’m not a cleaner.”

“Yeah but you’re already holding the plates,” Henry reasoned, eyes returned to the game.

As a result, he missed the dangerous eyebrow raise. He did not miss, however, the plates being deposited in his lap before Regina stalked from the room.

By the time Regina had thrown together a salad for herself, her mind was racing. Should she go upstairs and check on Emma? In order for their obtuse son to notice the signs, Emma must have been crying a lot. Would Emma want comfort from her? Would Regina even be comforting? She still couldn’t offer Emma an answer. She still needed time. Going up to see her might offer false hope, hope which Regina wasn’t sure she could yet provide.

That said, the thought of the blonde sitting on the bed upstairs, crying alone, made Regina want to abandon her lunch and run up to gather the woman in her arms. She did still love Emma. She didn’t wish Emma any harm. She wanted Emma to be happy. The question she had to ask herself was whether she was in a position to trust Emma again, to allow the woman back into their family home.

She couldn’t see her; not yet. The morning had done nothing to help her decide, not least because she’d spent much of it trying to calm down after that kiss. No, she needed more time. Finishing her salad, she tidied up the kitchen and returned to her study, shutting the door in an attempt to block out the rest of the house so she could focus on her work for the afternoon. She was unsuccessful.

* * *

A knock on the door drew her back to the present. Looking up from her laptop screen, at which she’d been staring unseeingly for countless minutes if not hours, Regina called out her consent for whomever was knocking to enter. Henry’s head appeared around the door.

“What’s for dinner?”

“I don’t know, why?”

“Cos it’s after seven and I’m hungry.”

“Seven?” Regina looked at her phone and saw that her son was right. It was indeed early evening. “Sorry, sweetheart, I got distracted.”

“Work?”

Regina nodded, shutting her laptop screen and standing up. “What would you like for dinner? I’ll cook something quickly now. Did you put those plates in the dishwasher?”

“Can we have mac and cheese?”

“Yes, no problem. Those plates?”

Henry gave a sheepish grin and sloped off. Regina shook her head in despair. How had she raised such a lazy child? Calling after him that she expected the plates to be in the dishwasher before dinner was served, she made her way into the kitchen to get started.

The kitchen was empty. She wasn’t sure if she was expecting to see Emma there but she was certainly disappointed to find herself alone. The ten hours since she had last seen the blonde felt like an eternity. So much had run through her head during that time. Thoughts and feelings, questions and answers. She might not have her final answer for Emma, well, for herself, but she certainly knew they needed to talk. Before Regina was able to decide exactly what she wanted, she knew there was a conversation to be had. Tonight, she promised herself, after Henry goes to bed, we’ll talk.

After sliding the mac and cheese into the oven twenty minutes later, Regina took a swig from her glass of wine and cast her eyes towards the ceiling. She hadn’t heard a peep from Emma for hours.

“Henry?” she called out.

“Ok, ok, I’m coming!” came the exasperated call.

“When did you last see your ma?” she asked him when he emerged with no fewer than five plates. What had he been snacking on?

“Um, lunch time. Why?”

“You didn’t see her at all this afternoon?”

“No but I was just playing in the lounge. Ma doesn’t like to join on this one. She says the two-person version isn’t as good as playing solo.” As he spoke, he finally started stacking the dishwasher. The task took all of ten seconds.

“Have you been playing that same game all day?”

“Yeah, why?”

Regina shook her head. “Aren’t you bored?”

“No. How long until dinner.”

“Ten minutes,” she replied. “So, you’ve not seen your ma since midday or so?”

“I guess, why? She’ll just be upstairs. It’s not like she could go anywhere. Toxic air outside, remember?”

“Yes, Henry, I remember. Go and wash your hands then lay the table please.”

Henry looked as if he were about to argue but something in his mother’s tired, slightly pained expression made him obey without question. As he started to gather what he needed, Regina slipped from the room and up the stairs.

Outside the guest bedroom, Regina paused to listen. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to hear. Crying? No, Emma wouldn’t risk Henry hearing. Talking? Emma had her cell phone; maybe she wanted to speak to a friend. No, Emma hadn’t shared the truth about her gambling addiction with anyone in their friendship group. It was silent in there. Too silent. Was Emma … gone?

She turned the handle and opened the door, rushing inside.

“Oh, sorry.”

Emma sat up at the sudden appearance of Regina in her bedroom. She pulled the earbuds out and placed the book down on the bed, on which she had been lying. “Is everything ok?” she asked, alarmed at the way the woman had burst in.

“Yes, sorry. I … well, I thought you’d gone.”

“Gone? Gone where? Toxic air outside, remember?”

Regina couldn’t help but smile at the echoed words of their son. “Yes, of course. Um, dinner’s almost ready. Would you like to come down?”

Nodded, Emma climbed off the bed and straightened her clothes. Regina turned and led the way from the bedroom but they didn’t make it as far as the top of the stairs before Emma’s hand reached out for the woman’s arm, halting their progress.

“Emma, I’ve not got an answer for you yet,” Regina said before a question had even been asked.

“I know,” Emma said quickly. “I wasn’t going to ask. I just wanted to say that I respect your need for time and space. If you can’t give me an answer now, when I’m in the house, I’ll understand. Take as long as you need. I’ll wait.”

Regina looked up through the gloom of the hallway, the fading evening light not penetrating this part of the house. She was touched by the sincerity and thoughtfulness of Emma’s words.

“Let’s talk,” she said finally. “After dinner. When Henry’s in bed. I don’t have an answer for you but I think we need to talk anyway. It will help me. And it might help you too.”

“Talk,” Emma repeated. “Ok, yeah. Let’s talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: so the vote split was 46 for option 2, 31 for option 1. Thank you to everyone who voted. I am always overwhelmed at how invested you guys get in this story and the thoughtful reasons you put forwards when casting your vote. As always, I read all the reviews and take them into account, as I hope you could tell from the chapter.


	10. Money

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: bad news for me – I lost my largest client. Good news for you – mid-week chapters!

Dinner was a quiet affair. Emma didn’t feel much like talking, despite barely having spoken since her conversation with Regina that morning. Regina was lost in her own thoughts, as she had been most of the day. In fact, she was fairly sure that Emma’s name may even have accidentally been typed onto one or more of the worksheets she’d created for her students. She ought to check that after the meal. 

Henry, too, was quiet. Even as a typically self-involved pre-teen, he was aware that the shelter in place instruction their household had found itself under was going to cause some issues for his separated mothers. While he wanted them to get back together, it was clear that their presence under one roof for a few days wasn’t going to be enough. 

His moms may not have told him exactly what happened to lead to the impending divorce, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew something bad had happened. He even knew that it was Emma who was at fault. She was the one who moved out, after all. He also knew Emma wanted to move back home. He wanted Emma back too. He missed his ma terribly, even though he saw her often. The way Emma had looked that lunch time, however, made Henry fear the worst. Whatever had happened, he was starting to think there was no coming back, that there was no way for his moms to be happy together again. 

This realisation had led him to sit quietly throughout the meal, tucking into the food with his usual gusto while shooting sidelong glances at both women, trying to gauge their true level of distain for one another. Curiously, he found none. His blonde mother just looked … sad. And as for his brunette mom, she appeared to be a million miles away, unaware of anyone else sat at the table. 

It was awkward, uncomfortable. He felt like he was intruding but he didn’t know what on. The atmosphere made him want to finish his food as soon as possible and leave the two women to … well, he wasn’t sure. Talk? Argue? Retreat in silence to their own spaces? Whatever was brewing, Henry Swan-Mills wanted no part in it. 

As soon as his plate was cleared, he got to his feet. Mouth still chewing, he mumbled his thanks as he carried his empty plate to the dishwasher than hurried from the room. 

Only once she’d heard the living room door close did Regina speak. “Well, it looks like he’s finally discovered how to stack the dishwasher.”

Emma looked up and offered a weak smile. “Yeah, I guess he has.”

The blonde returned to her food but at the sight of Emma’s expression, Regina had suddenly lost her appetite. She placed her cutlery neatly in the middle of her plate and sat back in her chair, hand coming down to caress her stomach which felt uncomfortably full, even though she’d eaten only half of her meal. Emma’s eyes had returned to her own dinner which, quite out of character, was also only half eaten. 

The silence stretched on, more pronounced now that Henry wasn’t present. Both women wanted to break it but neither knew what to say. Eventually, Emma managed to finish the portion although Regina could tell the final swallow cost her a great deal of effort. As soon as she’d finished, Emma got to her feet, clearing her own plate and Regina’s away, muttering her own thanks for the meal. 

“Emma, are you …” Regina trailed off. She was going to ask if the blonde was ok but of course she wasn’t. No one inside that house was ok. Even Henry was clearly affected by the tension between them. 

“I’m fine,” Emma said, even though no question had been asked. “Sorry if I made dinner awkward.”

“You didn’t. I did. I’m sorry too. I just didn’t know what to say and the longer I went without speaking, the more awkward it got.”

“Me too,” Emma said, heading to the fridge to pull out a beer. She’d decided she was allowed one more drink before their conversation later that evening. Regina was having a wine with dinner and Emma had already consumed a beer. She would stop at two, however. She didn’t want to be drunk when they talked. “Do you think Henry noticed?”

“Yes,” Regina nodded. “He asked me if we’d been fighting earlier. He said it looked like you’d been crying when he saw you at lunch.”

Emma said nothing and instead walked back to the chair she had just vacated, slumping into it and taking a long drag from the fresh beer bottle. 

“I suppose we have to remember that he’s not a kid any more,” Regina sighed. “He was always going to become aware of our problems, more so than just the fact that you don’t live here at the moment.” Emma’s eyes snapped up at the hint of hope that statement threw towards her. “Maybe we should start talking to him more.”

Emma’s face suddenly darkened. “You mean tell him what I did?”

“I’d never tell him myself,” Regina replied at once. “It would have to be a decision you made. But perhaps he deserves to know. It might help him make more sense of what’s happening to his family.”

“It might also make him hate me,” Emma shot back. 

“Henry could never hate you,” Regina soothed.

But the blonde was unconvinced. “You don’t know that. And he’d have every right to hate me if we told him. It would almost be weird if he didn’t hate me. I’m the reason he doesn’t have a future.”

“Emma, don’t be so overdramatic,” Regina admonished. “Henry does have a future. He has a bright, wonderful future and you and I are going to make sure that he has all the opportunities he could possibly want.”

“You don’t know that for sure. What if I don’t have enough time? It’s only seven years before he’ll be going off to college. And he’ll be applying in six. They’ll need financial records in six years time, Regina. I don’t think that’s long enough. I’m taking on more work, I’ve asked August for a pay rise and talked with him about investing my own money. But what if it’s not enough?”

“Emma,” Regina said firmly, reaching out to take the blonde’s hands in her own. “You’ll get there, I know you will. And if you need some help, of course I’ll be able to provide a top up. I won’t allow anything to compromise our son’s education.”

“I don’t want your money,” Emma snapped, pulling her hands free and jumping to her feet. “It’s my fuck-up. I should be the one to fix it.”

“Oh, so now you don’t want someone else’s money?” Regina bit back. “But when you ran out of your own cash six months ago, then it was fine to steal from our son’s college fund? The fund that my parents had set up?”

“Of course it wasn’t ok,” Emma yelled. “Fuck, Regina. You know I feel like shit about what I did. I don’t need you telling me how much of a bad mom I was. All I’m saying is I don’t want your money to repay my debts. They’re my debts. Mine to repay. I’m not asking for a handout.”

“It’s not a handout. It’s an investment in our son. And you’re in no position to stop me from doing exactly that if it does come to a point when Henry is applying for colleges and we don’t have the money in an account for him. When that happens, I’m not going to sit by and just watch his dreams get flushed down the drain. I’ll step up and I’ll do whatever it is I need to do as a mother so that our son goes to the college he wants to go to. And your pride is not going to stop me from doing that, Emma. Nothing will stop me from giving our son the best chance in life.”

“Well, you won’t have to do that. I’ll get the money. I’ll get it all. I’ll repay every last cent I lost and Henry is never going to know.”

“Never going to know what?”

Emma’s face paled except for her cheeks, still flushed red with anger. Her fiery eyes blew wide as she heard her son’s voice behind her. Regina, who could see both Emma and Henry, looked between her terrified wife and her confused son. Despite the rage she had just felt at Emma’s stubborn nature, she directed her words to Henry. 

“Nothing, my little prince. Don’t worry about it. Your ma and I were just having a disagreement.”

“About me?” he asked, stepping further into the room. “I heard my name. Did I do something wrong?”

At that, Emma whipped around. “No, kid. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry we were shouting. Do you want to play that new shooter game you got?”

Henry ignored his blonde mother, however, and looked straight at Regina. “What’s Ma stopping, Mom?”

At those words, Emma felt herself collapse into her chair, head hanging down. She couldn’t bear to look at Henry the moment he found out the truth. At least, not yet. Not when she still owed over one hundred thousand dollars to her son. She screwed her eyes shut, willing the world around her to simply dissolve from existence. 

“Nothing, Henry. Your ma isn’t stopping anything at all,” came Regina surprisingly calm words. 

“But, I heard you. You said nothing was going to stop you from giving me the best chance in life. Then Ma said something about getting some lost money and that I would never know. Are we poor? Do we not have any money now? Do we have to move house?”

“No, Henry, we’re not poor. And your ma isn’t stopping you from doing anything, I promise.”

“So what was the argument about?”

Regina couldn’t help but note the similarities between her son and Emma at that moment as the boy crossed his arms and levelled an accusatory stare at her. Emma, sat in between them, was staying silent, face cast downwards. 

“Grown up things, Henry. You don’t need to worry. Would you like some ice cream?”

“No, I’m not a kid any more, Mom!” This time it was Henry’s turn to shout. “Stop treating me like a baby. I know you and Ma are getting a divorce, but I don’t understand why. You love her, right? And I know she loves you. So I don’t understand and you won’t tell me what happened in November. Is it about money? Do we need more money? I can have a smaller allowance if that would help. I don’t care. I don’t want more money. I just want you to get back together.”

The last words were barely distinguishable as the boy dissolved into tears. Regina hurried over to him as his defiance crumbled, Emma jumping to her feet at the same time. In seconds, the boy was wrapped in a fierce hug, each woman desperate to comfort her son. They both also vehemently ignored the fact that their lips were now mere inches away from one another. 

“Henry, it’s ok,” Regina soothed. “You don’t need to worry about anything.”

“Yeah, kid. We’ve got plenty of money. There’s no need for you to have a smaller allowance.”

Henry said nothing. He just clung to his mothers, allowing the pent up emotions which had been slowly building since Emma moved out to suddenly flow free. His face was burrowed in Regina’s top, soft silk soaking up his tears as he bawled. He didn’t care that he was eleven and that crying was babyish. He didn’t care that he had promised himself that he would look after both of his moms now that he was a big boy. All he wanted in that moment was for life to go back to normal. He wanted Emma back in the family home. He wanted Regina to forgive whatever had happened. And he desperately, desperately wanted his moms to smile again.

Eventually, the little knot of Swan-Mills loosened. Henry’s face emerged, red and blotchy. Regina and Emma didn’t look much better, both women having been powerless to resist the anguish which flowed at the sight of their distraught son. Tenderly, Regina wiped Henry’s tears before moving without speaking towards the freezer and proceeding to make three of the largest chocolate sundaes any of them had ever eaten. Emma coaxed Henry back to his chair, smoothing his ruffled hair and placing a kiss on his forehead. 

“Are you ok?” she asked, crouching down beside him. 

He nodded, sniffing slightly. “I just want you to come back home, Ma,” he whispered. “I don’t care about money and I know Mom doesn’t either. She loves you way more than money. Can you make it up to her, whatever it was you did?”

“I’m trying, kid,” Emma said, glancing at Regina who was now adding whipped cream to their desserts. “I’m trying really hard. Your mom knows that. She knows I love her. And you’re right, by the way.”

“About what?”

Another quick glance at Regina to check she wasn’t listening before Emma continued. “She still loves me too,” she confided in her son. “We’re going to talk. Later, after you’re in bed. Proper talking, no arguing this time. Now, I don’t want you to get your hopes up. It might be that we talk and decide that it would be best for all three of us if I don’t come home. But that’s not what I want and I am going to try really hard to show your mom that I love her and that I won’t ever do anything to hurt her or you again.”

At that, Henry frowned. “You didn’t hurt me. Well, apart from when I was four and you swung me around and I hit my leg on that tree. But she can’t still be mad about that, can she?”

Despite everything, Emma smiled. “No, kid. She’s forgiven me for that little mishap.”

Henry huffed, arms folded once more. “You’re still not telling me what happened. Why won’t you tell me?”

“One day, when the time is right, I promise I’ll tell you everything, ok? But for now, I know you’re not a baby but do you think a massive serving of chocolate ice cream might be something a grown up boy of eleven may be interested in?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: do you think my personal mood impacted the direction I took this story? Hmm …


	11. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Saturday. Here’s some teary angst! Thanks for the support after last week’s chapter. I’m doing ok. Got plenty of time to read now so I can’t complain. And there are many other people out there much worse off than I.

Post ice-cream, the trio retired to the living room where Henry navigated through Netflix to find a movie for them all to watch. It was unspoken that they would spend some time together. Not that Regina and Emma wanted Henry to be given any false hope about a possible reconciliation but he certainly needed to be reassured that both his parents were going to be in his life, whatever happened. It was also important, following the argument, that he experienced the two women getting along at least amicably. If the divorce was to go ahead, Henry had to know that the women would still be able to spend time together without rows breaking out. 

Henry’s choice of movie, some animated crap he was probably too old for, left a lot to be desired. Emma pulled out her phone every five minutes while Regina found her fingers itching to reach for her book. But they sat it out until the credits finally rolled and Henry got to his feet. 

“I’m going to bed,” he announced. 

Unlike many youngsters, the pre-teen had always been willing to go to bed at the end of each day. A blessing which was aided by the fact that he now had his own iPad, allowing him to play games late into the night. At least, he did until his mothers found out and put a screen time limit on the device and limited the use of games to before 9:30pm. Still, it was better than nothing. 

Both Regina and Emma told Henry they loved him, with Regina adding that she’d be up shortly to check on him. 

“Love you guys too,” Henry replied, as he left the room. “Oh, and thanks for the ice cream.”

“That was a pretty epic sundae you made, by the way,” Emma remarked, patting her flat stomach even though it had been almost two hours since the dessert was consumed. 

“It was too sweet for me. I only ate it all because somehow it had taken on a bigger meaning. As if the ice cream represented our family or something.”

“So you ate us?” Emma asked, chuckling.

Regina grinned. “Oh, you’re right. That doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“No, but I get what you mean. The ice cream may have been made to placate Henry but eating it as a family did seem to symbolise something more than just the three of us enjoying dessert.”

“I guess we should talk about that, right?”

“I guess we should. Now?”

“I’ve got no plans this evening, have you?”

Emma shook her head and turned herself a little more on the couch. She was sat at one end and Regina was sat at the other. Henry had been slumped in between them, yet another silent symbolism of their family unit. 

“So, should we start with the college money? I know that’s a pretty big topic to be talking about but since it started everything, perhaps it would be the right place to begin,” Regina suggested.

Suddenly wishing she had had a few more beers, Emma curled her legs underneath herself and nodded. “Ok, let’s start with the college money.”

“Shall I say my bit first and then you can respond? Or would you like to go first?”

“You go,” Emma offered.

Regina drained the last of the wine from the glass next to her which she had forgotten about before arranging herself so her body mirrored Emma’s, tucked up neatly at her end of the couch. 

“I guess for me there are two main issues we need to talk about. One descended into argument earlier this evening but I’m going to say it again. I know you want to repay all of the money which was withdrawn and I respect you for this, but if you are unable to do that by the time Henry goes to college, I will be using some of the money my parents left us as a family to top it up. As far as I’m concerned, that’s non-negotiable. And secondly,” she said quickly as Emma opened her mouth, “I want to talk about the fact that your gambling got to the point where you turned to money which was put aside for our son but didn’t come to me. The fact that you thought about using the money is one thing. The fact that you did it without trying to seek help, without talking to me, is probably the biggest betrayal and that’s what I’m going to struggle to get over.”

Emma had closed her mouth and obediently listened to the rest of what Regina had to say, so hesitated once the brunette stopped, not wanting to interrupt. But when the silence stretched for several seconds, she figured it was now time for her to speak. 

“Ok, well, I guess I should say that I plan to pay back every cent. I’ve already paid a couple of thousand back. You got the transfers, right?”

“Yes, and I moved that money straight into the college fund,” Regina nodded. 

“Good, well, I’m going to keep doing that. I’ll do whatever I need to do in order to make enough money to repay what I’ve spent. Stolen, I guess. I won’t allow my addiction to impact Henry’s future.” She paused for a moment, swallowing as she prepared to speak the words which she had been mulling over throughout the movie. “And if I don’t quite make it. You know, if I’m a few thousand short, or whatever.” Emma hesitated again. Regina said nothing. “If the time comes and the account needs a top up, then I understand that you’ll help out. Thank you, I suppose.”

“Of course,” Regina replied quietly. “I’d be doing it for Henry, not you.” The words hadn’t meant to sound so bitter but somehow they did. Emma visibly winced. Regina noticed and felt a twinge of guilt. “You know what I mean,” she added, hoping to soften the blow. 

“Yeah, I know. It’s all for Henry, right?”

“Everything,” Regina nodded. “So, do you want to talk about how your gambling got to the point that was so bad you used his college fund?”

“Not really,” Emma replied, a poor attempt at humour. The olive-skinned woman was not amused and just waited. “Right, yeah, ok. I mean, we talked about this back in November. I don’t know what more I can say. I’m not using this as an excuse but gambling is an addiction. You know that when I have a slip … God, I hate that expression. It makes it sound like there was no one to blame. A little slip off the path and then you right yourself and carry on. It’s not like that.”

“Tell me,” Regina said, leaning forwards. “Help me to understand, Emma.”

The blonde didn’t even know where to start. She reached for her beer but then remembered it was empty. Placing the bottle back down, she glanced around the room, trying to find the right words. 

“I know it’s cliché to say that you never fully recover from addiction. But it is true, to an extent. The urge to gamble doesn’t disappear, even after fifteen years. You really do have to take it one day at a time. I didn’t wake up every morning and think about placing a bet but there were days when it was the first thing I thought about, even after all that time. On those days, I’d have to work a little harder to keep myself on the right path. You know I went to meetings every now and then. Those visits were usually prompted by bad days.”

“But you told me about those meetings. Your openness was always something which reassured me. I read a lot about gambling and addiction way back when you had your other … slip. I know the importance of meetings as well as the support of family and loved ones. You had that from me. So what was it that stopped you from talking to me when you first realised you had lost control?”

“It’s not that easy,” Emma replied. “I can’t come home and just say, ‘hey Regina, I lost two grand betting on the way back from work today’. I mean, I guess I could but at the time, I felt like I’d failed. I mean, I had failed. But that first time, it was only a little slip. Shit, that word is so stupid. Little slip suggests I had it under control. I thought I did. But then next day that slip became a little bigger and it was definitely more conscious. It wasn’t a slip. It was a step, if we want to continue with the metaphors. And then before I knew it, I was striding, thinking I was forging a new path. One where I could have my old life and also enjoy gambling, the two running in parallel. 

“Then I guess the new path took a turn and started plummeting downhill. Metaphor-wise, it was like when you lose control when you’re running down a steep hill and end up going head over heels. It was too much and I couldn’t stop myself. All I could do was cling on and try and keep pace and then, well, I guess the stone wall at the bottom of the hill was the empty college fund. It jolted me back into reality; made me realise what I’d done. All the adrenaline I’d been flying high on, even when I was losing night after night, but still chasing the next win, just vanished from my bloodstream. I was left feeling completely alone and consumed with guilt. I told you straight away; that night. I couldn’t hide it from you when I woke up to what I’d done.”

“No, you couldn’t. Not least because the statement for that account was due in a few weeks’ time.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know that, did I? I’m hardly on top of our banking calendar.”

“Either way, the fact remains that you told me after it was too late. I can’t help but ask myself what I did to stop you coming to me earlier? If you had, maybe we could have stopped this from unravelling the way it did.”

“Don’t you think I wish I had come to you earlier?” Emma asked, a little exasperated. “If I could turn back time, that’s what I would have done. I regret that almost more than I regret the first bet I placed, Regina. I hate myself for shutting you out and I know you could have helped me.”

“Then why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I was ashamed!” Emma cried out, jumping up from the couch and striding over to the fireplace where embers still glowed. “I was ashamed,” she repeated, quieter now. “I’d fucked up. I’d slipped and broken fifteen years of abstinence. I felt like I’d failed, like I’d let myself down. I already hated myself for doing that and I couldn’t bear the thought of you hating me too.”

The room fell quiet again. Emma gazed into the fire, unable to even think about facing Regina in that moment. Behind her, chocolate eyes took in the figure, head hanging low, shoulders slouched. The woman looked defeated, exhausted, dejected. Unable to bear seeing her like that, Regina got to her feet. Emma heard the movement but remained frozen in place. It was only when she felt Regina’s hand on her shoulder that she finally turned around. 

It was a shock to find Regina standing so close, invading her personal space. A few inches shorter than Emma, the brunette stood less than a foot away, hand falling from Emma’s shoulder to clasp the other one, knuckles pale. The warm glow of the fire illuminated her clear complexion, that soft skin which Emma was desperate to touch, to caress, without risk of rejection. But she didn’t dare move. Her hands balled into fists by her sides as she waited for Regina to speak. 

“I wish you had come to me that first day,” Regina murmured, eyes darting across Emma’s face, trying to read the myriad expressions. “More than anything in the world, I wish you had trusted me.”

“I do trust you,” Emma said at once.

“No, you don’t. If you had, you would have allowed me to help you. But instead you shut me out. I don’t blame myself for what happened next. That was on you. But I do blame myself for whatever I did which meant you didn’t come to me. And that’s something which I’m going to have to address before …”

“Before what?” Emma urged when Regina didn’t continue. 

Brown eyes once again traced the familiar contours of Emma’s face. They journeyed from her strong jaw, across pale lips, up that straight nose, darted between intense, emerald orbs, and finally closed, unable to deal with the fluttering in her gut. The words, when they were finally whispered, came with Regina’s eyes still closed. 

“I thought we were going to be together forever. I thought you were my person, Emma. The day we got married, I thought I knew that you were going to be the one I lived out my days with. I never wanted a divorce. I never wanted to end things with you. But I felt like I had no choice when I realised that while you were my everything, I could no longer trust that I was yours.”

“Regina, what-”

“Let me finish,” she snapped, eyes now open and blazing. “I trusted you with everything Emma. If anything happened, good or bad, you were the person I would tell first. Now I know that the same can’t be said for you. I wasn’t the person you came to. You didn’t trust me in the same way that I trust you. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me.”

“Regina, I do trust you. You have to believe me,” Emma begged.

“Then why didn’t you come to me?” Regina cried out, tears springing to her eyes. “Why did you try and fight this alone?”

“That’s what an addiction does,” Emma explained. “It makes you think that it’s all you need, that you’re invincible. I was strong and powerful when I was winning. And then when I lost, that suffocating blanket of weakness was too humiliating to share. It sucks you in. It’s a darkness inside me which only I can control but which controls me too. It’s a disease. But when you’re in the middle of a downward spiral, you can’t see that. You can’t see the harm it’s doing and this devil inside you tells you to keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Your luck will change. Your fortunes will be reversed. It’s all-consuming and it’s only when you’re slammed into rock bottom that the rest of your life comes into focus. It’s nothing to do with how I feel about you, Regina. I trust you with my life. Please, you have to believe that. I love you more than anything in the world. Always have, always will.”

“But you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t,” Emma agreed. “But that’s on me. Not on you. Regina, don’t ever for a moment think that there is a personal reason why I didn’t talk to you. Addiction fucks up everything; it stops you thinking straight. That first night, the idea of talking to you didn’t even cross my mind. And that’s not because I don’t trust you. It’s because there was a little voice in my head telling me that there was nothing wrong with what I’d done. That there was nothing to tell, nothing to confess. You have no idea how much I wish I had told you. Every day I wonder what would have happened if I had. But I didn’t and that’s something I’m having to deal with. But please, please, don’t ever blame yourself or think for a moment that I don’t love you or trust you implicitly.”

Regina looked up into Emma’s face, cheeks pink with the warmth from the fire mixed with the emotions of their conversation. She wanted, desperately, to believe what Emma had said. This wasn’t the first time Emma had explained addiction to her. But the last time they had spoken about this, it had been more of a shouting match than a conversation. She wanted to believe Emma still loved her. She wanted to believe that Emma trusted her. She wanted to believe that their marriage was equal and that she was to Emma what Emma was to her. She had always thought they were both equally in love; equally besotted. But since Emma’s ‘slip’, she had called that all into question.

“Regina,” Emma whispered, bringing her fingers slowly upwards and, when the brunette didn’t move, wiping several tears away, “I love you. I would do anything for you and Henry. I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove that to you if that’s what you want.”

“That’s not what I want,” Regina replied, fresh tears now falling. “I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

Emma hesitated for a moment before ducking in for a soft, tender kiss. It was salty and wet, tears from both women mingling on their lips. But before it could deepen, Regina pulled away. 

“No, Emma. We can’t.”

The blonde’s heart broke a little as Regina stepped away and Emma’s hands fell from her face. “Ok,” she accepted. 

“It’s too soon,” Regina added. “I’m not ready. I need more time.”

“Ok,” Emma said again. “But, and there’s no pressure, I mean, but I want to know … do you think you could be ready again? One day?”

Regina looked at her wife, face half in shadow, firelight dancing on the other half. Emma looked both broken and hopeful, a mixture of a woman in despair and a woman in love. Regina imagined she may look the same. She wanted so desperately to shed the feelings of betrayal and shattered trust. She wanted to fall into Emma’s arms, to be told it was all going to be ok, to be told that Emma was sorry and that she was never going to do it again. But Regina also knew that if Emma were to say those words, she wouldn’t believe them. Nor, she reasoned, would Emma. That was the nature of addiction. It was unpredictable and always needed to be kept in check. Could she live with that? Could she live with Emma as a recovering gambler again? Could Emma live without Regina?

“I want to be,” Regina whispered after almost a minute of silence. “I want to be ready to try again with you, one day. I don’t want to lose what we still share; that love, our family. I just don’t know if and when I’ll be in a place to begin rebuilding what was lost.”

“I’ll wait,” Emma said at once. “However long you need, whatever we need to do together, I promise I’ll do it. I …” She hesitated, then took a step towards Regina. When the brunette didn’t move, she took another step until she close enough to gather Regina into her arms. The movement was slow, allowing Regina plenty of time to pull away. But she didn’t and instead allowed herself to melt into Emma’s embrace. “I’ll do anything, Regina,” the blonde whispered into the older woman’s ear. “Talking, counselling, therapy. Anything, everything. I’ll do it all, if it means I get a second chance with you. You’re the love of my life and I won’t give up on us.”

The brunette’s body trembled with sobs as she clung to Emma, hating her exposed vulnerability and yet feeling reassured by the strong arms wrapped around her. Emma held her tightly, crying herself. They stayed like that, entangled in one another, until Regina pulled back lightly and Emma released her. 

Wiping their faces, Emma offered Regina a crooked, watery smile. “Well, if that was the first thing you wanted to talk about, what’s next?”

Despite everything, Regina chuckled. “I’m going to check on Henry. Do you want to pour us some cider? I think we could both do with one.”

Emma nodded but didn’t move. Instead, her eyes drifted down to those plump lips. Regina spotted it at once and steeled herself for what she was about to say. 

“I don’t think we should make things messier than they already are,” she whispered, taking a step backwards. “It’s hard enough keeping my head focused without your kisses.”

A flicker of pride within Emma was the blonde’s consolation which accompanied the words. She understood, however much she disliked hearing them. Why couldn’t Regina have suggested a night of passionate love-making to repent for all their mistakes? But no, Emma chided herself, Regina was right. It was messy. Deliciously, wonderfully, erotically messy. 

“Ok,” Emma agreed, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “Give Henry a kiss from me. I’ll get our ciders.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next up, a continuation of their night.


	12. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: sorry for the delay, peeps. Life got in the way!

Emma hesitated after pouring out two generous glasses of Regina’s delicious yet potent homemade apple cider. She was tempted to down her own and refill it; Dutch courage for the upcoming conversation. But she decided against doing so. She needed to keep her head relatively clear. Or at least be on the same level as Regina in terms of her intoxication.

Putting the stopper back into the crystal decanter, she made her way back to the couch, placed Regina’s glass carefully on the woman’s coaster and removed the empty wineglass. By the time she had returned from kitchen where she washed the glass and left it drying on the rack, Regina was settling back down.

“How’s Henry?”

“Sleepy. He’d already turned off his iPad. He’ll be asleep in a few minutes.”

“He didn’t overhear anything from our conversation, did he?” Emma asked, the idea suddenly a concern.

Regina shook her head. “I don’t think so. He didn’t say anything and his bedroom door was shut. Look, we don’t have to talk about this tonight but at some point, we are going to have to work out what we should tell him when. Even if we do get back together,” Emma’s heart sang at the words, “when he’s older he’s going to have questions about what happened to make us separate.”

Despite the moment of joy offered by the brunette, Emma nodded grimly. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. I know I need to tell him but I can’t bear doing it yet. I’d rather wait until I’ve paid back most of the money. Or at least until we know where we stand as a couple. I don’t want to confuse him.”

Nodding her agreement, Regina reached for her cider and took a sip. The warming rich liquid was an instant comfort. The recipe had been handed down from her father and one day she’d teach Henry. She took another sip, closing her eyes as the cider slid down her throat.

“Great batch,” Emma remarked, taking a less delicate swig from her own glass.

“Thank you.” It was true; it had been an excellent year for apples and the result was a particularly tasty, smooth cider which she’d been very pleased with.

“So, um, what else did you want to talk about?” Emma prompted after a few moments of silence.

“Well, I think we should talk about your recovery.”

“I’m doing great,” Emma said quickly. “One-hundred and forty-four days.”

“Congratulations,” Regina offered with a genuine smile. “And you’re going to meetings regularly, right?”

“Yes, a few times a week. My sponsor called me this afternoon actually. I texted him to check in. He’s not in lockdown because he lives further away from the plant, but he knows I won’t be able to get to meetings. He said to call whenever I need him.”

“And have you needed him?”

Emma shook her head. “Not once. I mean, it’s only been a day but I do feel like this recovery is different. The downfall might have been familiar but coming out the other side seems somehow easier. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still something I have to consciously think about and it’s something which is always in the back of my mind. But I don’t have that gnawing need I struggled with fifteen years ago. And the other times when I tried to quit before then. This feels … natural. I don’t know why but those cravings, that urge to place a bet and chase that rush of winning just haven’t been as strong, at least not after I got through the first few days.”

“So, is that a good sign?”

Enthusiastic nodding followed this question. “Yes, definitely. Killian, he’s my sponsor, says that recovery isn’t always the same even for people who’ve been through the process several times. It depends on where you are in your life. But just because your recovery starts off comparatively easy, it’s important not to get complacent. Thinking you’ve recovered completely leads to mistakes. That’s why I’m still going to so many meetings even though I rarely rock up needing to deal with a pressing urge to gamble. It’s a routine which I’m committed to maintaining because I know it will keep me on the right path.”

Regina knew she couldn’t pretend to really understand the process of recovery. She had never been an addict. But she had lived with Emma during her previous recovery and was able to compare that experience and the way Emma talked then to the woman sat before her now. On the surface, she had to admit, Emma looked great. She was open and talkative about her recovery, a key indicator, and was aware of the reality that the journey was going to be long, never-ending. But the fact remained, Emma would always be a recovering gambling addict. Could Regina deal with that?

“I’ve put loads of things in place to make sure it’s as hard as possible for me to fuck up again,” Emma went on when Regina didn’t say anything. “I’ve contacted my bank and there are blocks on my accounts so I can’t use any of them on online gambling websites. There are blocks on the apps on my phone too. And I’ve removed my overdraft on my account so I can’t spend money I don’t have. Plus, well, obviously you removed me from all of the family accounts.”

That had been something Regina did the morning after Emma’s confession. She had awoken to an empty bed, having refused to sleep alongside the blonde, and called their bank from the bedroom before she’d even had breakfast. Emma hadn’t reacted to the news when Regina announced what she had done once Henry had left for school later that morning. It wasn’t a surprise. In fact, it was sensible and Emma wished she’d suggested herself that Regina do exactly that. But it was still a sucker punch to the gut, a symbol of the splintering of their lives which had been perfectly intertwined for so many years. Now they were starting to unpick their history, piece by piece.

“Well, that all sounds like good progress,” Regina said, another sip of cider following the remark. “Have you had to use any of those things yet?”

“You mean have I been tempted to go online and place a bet or walk into a betting shop or and underground gambling den with my last dollar?” Emma asked, to which Regina nodded slowly. “No, I haven’t. I told you, for some reason, this recovery is different. I’ve not felt the urge to gamble. Or at least, not a strong one which I have to actively resist. For the most part, it’s just an awareness in the back of my mind but nothing I’m fighting with, struggling to beat into submission. I guess I’ve realised how much I’ve got to lose and that knowledge overrides the addiction.”

And that was what Regina was afraid of. She stood from the couch, making her way over to the liqueur cabinet to refill her glass, unsure of whether Emma had gleaned the significance of what she just said. Pouring herself another drink, she downed it quickly and poured another one. Emma watched, eyebrows raised as she took in the action.

“Regina?” she asked, concerned at the uncharacteristic behaviour. “Are you ok?”

“No.”

The brunette walked back to her seat and sat down, eyes avoiding looking at the blonde who was thoroughly confused.

“Did I say something wrong?” Emma asked.

“It’s just … a lot,” Regina finished, lamely. The words which would describe how she felt seemed stuck somewhere, unformed and muddled.

“I know,” Emma nodded. “But I’m working on it.”

“It’s not just about you though, is it?” Regina snapped, a little harsher than she meant. The hurt on Emma’s face made her recognise her misplaced tone. “Sorry, I just mean that it affects all of us.”

“I know that. And I’m going to try really hard to make sure that my recovery doesn’t impact the way I am with you or Henry.”

“But that’s what I’m saying,” Regina sighed, exasperated. “That’s impossible, Emma. You said it yourself. This recovery is comparatively easy because you know what you’re fighting for, you know what you’ll lose if you slip. Your family, right? Me and Henry?” To that question, Emma nodded fervently. “Ok, and that’s great and I’m glad we can motivate you but … Emma, what if you do lose us?”

A hard lump in Emma’s throat suddenly made breathing very difficult. “What?”

“What if we do get back together but then years later something happens and we split? Or what if we talk everything out but we can’t get back to where we were and the divorce happens? Or what if I die?”

“Don’t say that,” Emma cut in before Regina could continue listing horrific outcomes.

“But we have to talk about this, Emma. It’s all I can think about. Is the hope of us being a family again the reason your recovery is going well? Because if it is, what happens when that hope doesn’t come true? What happens if we break up or if the relationship ends? Does that mean you’ll relapse? Does that mean you’ll turn back to gambling? I can’t have that on my conscious, Emma. I can’t feel like the only person standing between your recovery and a slip back to gambling is me. It’s too much. I can’t … I … I just can’t.”

She stood up, newly empty cider glass abandoned. Emma watched the woman through teary eyes as she paced up and down the room. She said nothing, sensing that Regina wasn’t finished.

“Do you have any idea how much pressure that is? Knowing that your fate, your future is in my hands? That I’ll ultimately be responsible for the rest of your life?”

“Woah, hold on,” Emma said, jumping to her feet as well. “Look, we can talk about the challenges of being in a relationship with an addict and frankly I think we’re going to need a professional counsellor to get through that minefield but let’s just straighten something out. No one is responsible for my gambling choices except for me. If I slip, that’s my fault, no one else’s.”

“But what if that happened the same day as our divorce?”

A knot in Emma’s stomach tightened uncomfortably at the thought. “Then that may have been a factor but the divorce itself can’t be held responsible for my actions. My actions, Regina. Me. Emma Swan-Mills. No one else can be held accountable for my decisions and you shouldn’t feel responsible for them.”

“But I will do. That’s inevitable. Cause and effect, Emma. If I’m involved in a contributing factor like our divorce, that’s something I will be responsible for.”

“We’re only responsible for our own actions on this planet, Regina, not anyone else’s. If we break up, yes, I would be devastated and the urge to gamble may return. But it’s on me to fight against that, not you.”

“And if we were together and something happened? What then?”

Emma sighed. “Look, living with an addict is hard, I’m not going to lie. As partners, I’ve always believed we’ve got a duty of care to one another. If, and I know this is a big if, I was to move back in and we were to try again, I’d like to think we’d work together to minimise the risk of a slip. I’d promise to be more open about how I felt with you, warn you if I was having a bad day. We’d be a team and we’d work together as much as possible but at the end of the day, every team member has to take responsibility for their own part. Ultimately, even if we were a couple, it would be my choice, my mistake, if I gambled again. But I honestly, hand on heart, believe that I am strong enough to resist any temptation and know that you would be able to help me through.”

“And … if we weren’t together?”

The knot tightened impossibly further. Emma swallowed. “I’m be devastated,” she whispered. “Again, just like I was when I moved out. I would be incredibly sad and full of regret, but I’d go to meetings and I’d talk to my sponsor and I’d do everything I possibly could to keep myself on the path of recovery. It would be shit. I’d be sad. But I don’t think I’d relapse.”

“And if we got back together and something happened to me?”

“No, I don’t want to think about that.”

Regina cocked her head at the petulant response. “Emma, everyone dies one day.”

“I know but I don’t want to think about it. The idea of carrying on in a world where you’re not living is unbearable.”

The brunette let out a low breath and moved back to the couch. “Emma,” she said, gathering the blonde’s hands in her own. “That’s what I’m worried about and that’s what makes me feel trapped. If you lost me, whether we were back together or co-parents raising Henry, I’m scared about how you’d handle it. That’s one heck of a weight to put on someone else; I need you to know that.”

Green eyes filled with tears at those words. “I’m so sorry,” she choked. “I never meant to burden you with something like that.”

“I know you didn’t,” Regina murmured, “but that’s how I feel.”

“I want us to be back together more than anything else in the world, but I don’t want you to decide to take me back just because you’re scared of what would happen if we did get divorced. I want us to be together because we both decide it will make us happy. And as for your … death,” Emma swallowed, “I would be devastated. Heartbroken. It would be something I would never get over and I would always think of you first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Because that’s what I’ve done every day for the last sixteen years. But losing you wouldn’t make me start gambling again. And do you want to know why?”

Regina nodded, tears streaming down her own face now.

“Because I know that’s not what you’d want for me. You’d be looking down on me and Henry, wishing for us to have the best possible life we could have without you. You’d want to see us happy and healthy and safe and secure. You wouldn’t want to see me sat at a poker table. You’d be disappointed to see me gambling again and that knowledge, that feeling of being watched over would be such a powerful motivator that I’m sure no matter how broken I was by your death, I’d never, ever do the thing which I know you’d hate more than anything else. I promise, Regina, here and now, your death won’t lead to me gambling again.”

At those words, Regina broke down further, sobbing hard. Emma gathered the woman up in her arms and hugged her close, her own tears soaking into dark brown hair. And she thought the evening couldn’t get any heavier, Emma mused as she ran a comforting hand up and down Regina’s back.

It took a long time for Regina’s body to stop quaking. Eventually, however, she pulled back, wiping the smudges of mascara discretely from beneath her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, avoiding Emma’s gaze.

“What for?”

“For being selfish.”

Emma frowned. “What?”

“I made this all about me, about how I’d feel if you relapsed. We’re supposed to be talking about your recovery.”

“No,” Emma said firmly. “We’re talking about everything to do with us. And if you’re concerned about my recovery in relation to our marriage, then that’s something we need to talk about. It’s not selfish, Regina, to want to talk about how you feel responsible for me. You’re my wife and I’m yours. We are responsible for one another in many ways. But at the end of the day, the only person responsible for the final decisions I make is me. There is no need to apologise and although it was hard to hear, I’m glad you told me how you feel. Thank you for doing that.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“And I’m sorry I’ve put you in this position. I guess the question is, do you want to keep talking about whether or not you want to consider us trying again or does it all feel like too much and would you be more comfortable with ending this right now?”

As the words came out of her mouth, Emma felt a bitter taste on her tongue. She desperately didn’t want the answer. Or maybe she was desperate to hear it. Only Regina knew which way the blonde would feel.

“You know, if you’d asked me this last night, I would have had a different answer,” Regina said slowly. “But after this morning, after earlier this evening, Emma, the thought of giving up on what we share makes me sick. I can’t do that. I can’t turn my back on how I feel. I know it’s messy and I know we’re going to have to do a lot of work, but my gut tells me it could be worth the fight. We could be worth the fight. And I know you can’t make promises about not gambling if things didn’t work out between us but what you said about responsibility and choice was a great comfort to me. So, yes, I do want to keep talking. I do think we should speak to a professional as well, particularly with regards to addiction and recovery. But I am willing to work at this and I feel more comfortable in my own role in your recovery. I mean, if you’re willing to work on us?”

“Always,” Emma nodded. “I’ll always be willing, Regina. I’ll do anything, anything at all if it means I can hold you again.”

The sickness in Regina’s stomach from moments ago turned into butterflies as Emma’s gaze heated up. Emerald eyes slid up and down her body, drinking her in with a hunger she hadn’t seen in months. Her chest flushed with anticipation.

“Emma, we shouldn’t,” Regina whispered, even as she felt herself lean forwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: anyone else sexually frustrated during lockdown? :P


	13. Pleasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wasn’t expecting to write this chapter … but their conversation seemed to force me to do so … This chapter is E rated! Aka Not Suitable For Work … although we all work from home now so Not Suitable To Be Read Around Family (NSTBRAF)?

“Then let’s not,” Emma replied, even though she berated herself for deterring Regina. All she wanted was to feel those lips against hers once more. Her body practically burned with desire. But she wouldn’t dare do anything if Regina didn’t also want that too.

The words made Regina pause, face within a foot of Emma’s. “It’s a bad idea, isn’t it?”

“Very,” Emma nodded. “We’ve got a lot to talk through before ...” She trailed off, not wanting to speculate about what she and Regina may or may not be on the brink of doing.

“I know,” Regina agreed, yet still she hovered inches from Emma. “There’s a lot to be said and a lot to address before we’re in a place where we’re both confident we’re ready to move forwards with our relationship again. But … but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you right now, Emma.”

The blonde struggled to draw breath at the way Regina said her name, silky and buttery in her dulcet tones. Her hooded eyes drifted to those lips which edged closer to her, finally fluttering closed as lips pressed against her frozen mouth. For a moment, both women were still, processing what it meant to be kissing once more; for the fourth time that day.

“Do you think we should stop?” Regina whispered against Emma’s mouth. 

“Probably,” Emma murmured, eyes still closed, before pressing another tender kiss to Regina’s lips. 

“Do you want to stop?” Regina asked, following her own question with a longer kiss, delaying the moment when Emma had to reply. 

“No. Do you?” Emma asked when the kiss ended.

“No,” Regina replied, hands now reaching up to interlock behind Emma’s neck, thumbs stroking the soft, downy hair at her nape. “Just so long as we’re clear that this doesn’t mean our problems are solved. It’s just … sex.”

Emma swallowed thickly and pulled back slightly, fluttering her eyes open and waiting for Regina to do the same before she spoke. “It’s never just sex with you, Regina. It’s always been so much more.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to do this?”

At once Emma shook her head, vehement in denying that ludicrous question. “I do. I want you, Regina. But I’m not going to have sex with you. I’m going to make love with you. And in doing so, I’m going to be hoping that we have a future together. Is that ok?”

The raw emotion which poured from the blonde made Regina’s already hammering heart quicken further. Of course it wasn’t just sex with Emma. Her wife was right. It had never just been sex when it came to the two of them. From their first time together, nervous and unsure with one another as new lovers after their fifth date, but nevertheless a magical and memorable experience which both women understood to be the start of something special. 

“Ok,” Regina murmured. “You can make love to me, Emma. And I’ll do the same to you.”

There were no more words. Instead, they let their bodies speak. Lips reunited, hands began to explore. Regina’s drifted downwards, settling on Emma’s slender waist while the blonde’s long fingers buried in silky dark locks, allowing her to take control of the kiss which deepened quickly. Oh how they’d missed the taste on one another as their tongues met, the brief dance of that morning not enough to sate their need. 

Throughout their relationship, even over a decade into their marriage and through the ordeal of three rounds of IVF and the early years of Henry’s poor sleep cycles, their sex life had always remained strong. They continued to desire one another, rarely going more than a few days without sex. Sure, sometimes it was more perfunctory than others; the goal of bringing one another to orgasm front and centre. But they still regularly indulged in longer, drawn out, slow-paced love-making, building one another up with care and attention until they crested with a cry of pleasure and delight. 

Tonight was going to be a mix of the two, Emma predicted as Regina’s fingers toyed with the hem of her t-shirt. Well, Regina’s t-shirt. There was an urgency, pent-up desire after months apart which drove her forwards, desperate to touch and taste and feel Regina once more. But another part wanted to take her time, experience every moment, every freckle, every sigh, every flicker of pleasure. They had all night, she reminded herself as she stood from the couch, pulling Regina with her. There was no reason why they couldn’t experience both. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” Emma said against Regina’s lips. “In case Henry comes down.”

Regina nodded her agreement. There was no need to scar their son with a highly inappropriate display, especially during such a confusing time for him in terms of their marital status. 

Still kissing, they stumbled from the room, Regina walking backwards, hands fisted in Emma’s t-shirt. They only broke apart at the foot of the sweeping staircase, deciding that it was more important to get to the top quickly and without injury than to keep kissing. Once on the upper level of the house, their lips reconnected at once. 

Walking backwards again, Regina led the way to her bedroom. Their bedroom. To their bed. As her thighs bumped against the mattress, she stopped, leaned to the side and turned on the bedside lamp. “I need to see you,” she explained as her fingers now began to push Emma’s t-shirt upwards. 

“Me too,” Emma replied as she helped Regina wrestle the t-shirt over her head, tossing the garment aside without a care. And now it was Regina’s turn to lose her top, Emma’s fingers fumbling open the buttons, the silky fabric peeling slowly back, exposing, inch by inch, the woman’s olive skin. As soon as the blouse fell open, Emma ducked down, pressing a kiss to the top of the cleft between her plump breasts, inhaling the familiar scent of her wife. Turning her head, she rested her cheek for a moment, hearing the thudding of Regina’s heart beneath her ear. 

Tender hands ran through her hair, soft and reassuring. Emma closed her eyes, gave herself another few seconds to listen to Regina’s heartbeat then placed another kiss to the supple flesh before making her way back to Regina’s lips. The woman greeted her eagerly, sitting on the bed and pulling Emma with her so the duo fell back, Regina lying beneath the blonde who caught herself on her hands to prevent her from squashing the shorter woman. 

Even the half-weight of her wife was a familiar comfort, Regina noted as she felt Emma’s bare stomach press against her own. The warmth of that flesh ignited her desire further and she drew her hands up the woman’s back, fingers deftly unclasping the bra straps and, between them, they wriggled the material free. 

As soon as it was gone, Regina nudged Emma onto her back, and after a slightly awkward dance up the bed to better position themselves, climbed on top of the blonde and cupped her exposed breasts. She let her hands cup them gently for a moment, thumbs flicking over hardening nipples before she ducked her head to capture one between her lips. Emma sighed, stretching out across the mattress as Regina kissed and nipped at her breasts. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Regina murmured, chin resting on the woman’s sternum, gravity encouraging the breasts to either side. 

“Not as beautiful as you,” Emma replied, stroking a finger down Regina’s cheek. 

It was a familiar exchange, words both women had spoken countless times, the speaker interchangeable depending on who said the first line. But their frequent appearance during their love making didn’t in any way diminish their power. Both women felt and believed in their beauty as a result. 

“Come up here,” Emma said, finger curling gently around Regina’s jaw. The brunette complied at once, slithering her way up Emma’s bare torso and meeting eager lips. The kiss was more urgent now, forewarning what was to come. This might be so much more than a quick, meaningless fuck for both women but that didn’t mean they weren’t impatient. 

As the kiss deepened, tongues taking it in turn to dominate, Regina felt Emma’s fingers divest herself of her bra, her own, larger breasts now free to brush against Emma’s without a barrier. The sensation sent a jolt of heat right to her core. And Emma knew it. Reaching down between their bodies, the blonde set about removing the slacks which Regina was wearing, unbuttoning and unzipping in seconds. Regina helped by pushing herself up so she was kneeling above Emma then sliding backwards off the bed and wiggling not only her pants but also her panties down her legs. At the sight of her suddenly naked wife, Emma sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, slotting her knees in between Regina’s thighs. Lips pressed against the soft, toned skin of the woman’s stomach, nuzzling slightly. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” Emma whispered, peppering the skin with kisses. 

“I’ve missed you too,” Regina replied, threading her fingers through tousled blonde locks. 

Emma closed her eyes and moved her mouth downwards. The angle soon became awkward since the bed wasn’t so low to allow her easy access to Regina’s core. But she didn’t care. Short, cropped dark hair tickled her chin, then her nose, then her lips as she kissed her way southwards. Regina’s fingers never left her hair, only tightening as Emma’s mouth drew closer to its goal. 

When the tip of her tongue pressed, lightly, against the hooded bundle of nerves, a soft moan could be heard. Emma’s hands came to grip the back of Regina’s thighs, anchoring the woman whose body was already twitching and quaking with pleasure. Licking again, Emma drew her tongue across damp lips, parting them slightly as she ran once more over Regina’s pearl. And again. And again. 

“Emma,” came the low, raspy word. At her name, she looked up the body before her, meeting the gaze of the woman who held her heart. 

“Lie down,” Emma instructed, pulling back from their current position. Much as she was enjoying this initial teasing, she needed better access. 

Regina obeyed at once, crawling onto the bed then turning around and flopping, already a little delirious with pleasure, onto her back. As soon as she was comfortable, Emma moved to kneel between her thighs, palms gently pressing on the flesh to widen the woman’s stance. Opening her up. Granting her access. 

With a quick, hot, dirty kiss to Regina’s lips, Emma retreated to nestle where she had dreamed of being for months. Of course, sex wasn’t the only or even the main reason she wanted to repair their broken marriage. But now she was here, millimetres away from her wife’s cunt, Emma couldn’t believe she’d gone for so many months without a taste. And she wasn’t going to go a moment longer. 

The first, long, slow drag of her tongue from Regina’s entrance up to her clit caused Regina to arch her back, stifling a cry which threatened to burst from her lips. Emma repeated the action, wrapping her arms beneath Regina’s thighs and splaying her palms across her hips in order to minimise the woman’s movement. She didn’t want to restrict her or make it so Regina couldn’t get away. Not that Regina wanted to go anywhere! But by placing her hands in such a position, Emma was able to make sure Regina’s gyrations didn’t dislodge her at any critical moment as she built her towards her peak. 

Regina, for her part, loved feeling Emma’s hands resting on her hipbones and threaded her fingers through Emma’s, yet another point of connection for the two women. But right in that moment, Emma was more focused on another area. She closed her eyes, pressed her mouth closer and sucked softly as her lips enclosed Regina’s most sensitive spot. The woman herself let out another moan, encouraging Emma to keep going. Emma was not about to stop; not now, not ever. 

She allowed herself to stay put for a few moments, gently sucking over Regina’s clit. Then she moved the tip of her tongue, darting it softly over the hard bundle before sliding it back down through the wetness below, scooping up the delicious taste of Regina. Slick and hot, she circled the brunette’s clit once more, brushing lightly over the tip before retreating, not wanting to draw Regina to the peak too soon. Because she could do. Easily. Within thirty seconds she knew she could have Regina arching and cresting against her lips. 

Fingers tensed against her own as Emma set a rhythm. Laving through Regina’s wetness, a probing pressure against her entrance before swiping back up, looping around her clit and then sucking and worrying those tender nerves. Down, dip in, up, around, suck, flicker. Down, inside, back up, dance around, pressure, tease. Down, in, up, around, suck … 

“Emma, I need -” 

The sentence was never finished. It didn’t need to be. Emma knew what Regina wanted and needed. She knew what it would take to push her wife over the edge. She sealed her mouth, hot and wet and urgent, over Regina’s core, fingernails now digging into Regina’s rocking hips. And sucked with carefully controlled conviction. Not too much, not too intense. But enough to turn Regina’s insides into molten lava. Bringing into play the wriggling, relentless tip of her tongue, skittering backwards and forwards across Regina’s clit and Emma knew the woman was seconds away. 

After years of living with their child, both women had become used to coming silently. Emma missed the days when they didn’t have to censor themselves and relished nights when Henry was attending a sleepover. But for that evening, as Regina felt her orgasm wash over her, Emma contented herself with watching her, wide eyed, as her mouth remained furiously working throughout the woman’s orgasm. Their fingers separated as Regina’s hands fisted in the sheets, desperately trying to anchor herself somewhere as she became delirious with pleasure.

Emma refused to stop until Regina’s back collapsed back onto the bed, her body slack and panting. She didn’t need the brunette to push her head away from her tender core. Emma knew she was spent and unable to take more stimulation just yet. For now. Instead she climbed out from beneath Regina’s sprawled legs and lay herself gently down beside her, arm coming to rest on her stomach, fingers stroking soft, hot skin as her lips nuzzled Regina’s earlobe. 

“I’ve missed making you come,” Emma whispered, sending another shiver through Regina’s body at the words. 

“I’ve missed your mouth,” Regina replied. “God you’re so good at that.”

Emma grinned smugly and placed a kiss on Regina’s mouth as the brunette turned her head towards her, eyes half-closed. The kiss was lazy and slow, allowing Regina to get her breath back and keeping Emma’s arousal alight. Not that there was any risk of it dampening consider the naked goddess she was lying next to, the taste of her pleasure still in her mouth. 

“Give me a minute,” Regina said when they broke apart, still breathing heavily. “I’ll repay the favour.”

“There’s no rush,” Emma replied as she snuggled closer and began to kiss the sweaty skin of Regina’s neck. “We’ve got all night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The next chapter will probably (definitely) be sex too. I mean, what else is there to do in lockdown?


	14. Intimacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: More NSFW smut and sweetness for you!

After five months of sleeping alone, Regina thought she was used to having the huge bed all to herself. But when she awoke in the middle of the night, she instinctively knew something, someone, was missing. Rolling over, she could see through the gloom that the side of the bed which had once been Emma’s, and had recently been reclaimed, was empty. While familiar, after the night they had shared, this absence felt wrong. The duvet was thrown back and the rumpled sheets, she discovered when she reached out a hand, held the faint warmth of the missing body. 

Where was Emma? Regina felt her stomach drop at the sudden fear that perhaps the blonde had done a runner after their love-making. Except of course she couldn’t, thanks to that toxic chemical leak which had led to them being trapped in a house together in the first place. But if Emma was still in the house, where was she at … Regina glanced at the clock on her bedside table … four-fifty three in the morning? 

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and scanned the room. Her body relaxed as she spotted Emma, sitting on the chaise-lounge beneath the window, looking out into the pale dawn light beyond the curtains which had been pulled back. 

“Hey,” she murmured, alerting the younger woman to the fact that she was awake. “What are you doing all the way over there?”

Emma turned at the sound of Regina’s sleepy, dulcet tones and smiled. “Just thinking. Sorry if I woke you. Go back to sleep.”

Ignoring the suggestion, Regina slipped from the bed and padded across the floor to where Emma lay. Green eyes drank in the naked form, ethereal in the gloom. As she approached, Emma pulled back the blanket which she had draped over her own bare body when the chill of the new day began to seep into her skin. Without speaking, Regina climbed up onto the seat, positioning her body between Emma’s thighs and snuggling herself back against the blonde’s warm form. The blanket was tucked back into place and Regina let out a little sigh of contentment. 

“Last night was amazing,” Regina whispered, placing a kiss to Emma’s collarbone. 

“It really was,” Emma agreed, her own lips pressing against the crown of Regina’s head.

“At least that’s one part of our relationship which we don’t have to work on.”

The comment, supposed to be a joke, got no response. Regina bit her lip. Had she put her foot in it and broken the sleepy, happy, carefree spell the two women had wrapped themselves in?

“Sorry,” she muttered, bringing a hand up to curl around Emma’s side, holding her closer just in case the woman tried to move. Because Regina desperately didn’t want that. She didn’t want to scare Emma off. She knew Emma wanted to do whatever was necessary to improve their relationship and after last night, Regina knew she wanted to do the same. So saying stupid comments which might may Emma think she wasn’t serious was a terrible idea. 

“It’s ok,” Emma said after a long pause, her own fingers coming up to thread through Regina’s, bringing their connected hands to rest against her breast. “I know what you mean. Sex has never been our problem.”

“No,” Regina replied. “That was never something we found a challenge!”

“And it hasn’t become one, has it? I mean, being together again, has it changed how you feel about us?”

Regina craned her neck up to meet Emma’s gaze. “Is that why you’re sitting here?”

The blonde shrugged awkwardly. “Yes and no. It’s not changed what I want. Nothing will ever change that. And I don’t regret a moment of last night. Everything we did, I wanted, and those are memories I will treasure forever. But I think it might make things confusing moving forwards. Sex always confuses things, doesn’t it? Even when it’s of the love-making kind. I mean, if we’re really going to be working on all of the other issues of trust and my gambling, can we also keep having mind-blowing sex?”

“Mind-blowing, huh?” Regina asked, eyebrows raised in triumph. 

“You know what I mean,” Emma sighed, pushing on past the deflective comment. “Last night was amazing, Regina. And I want nothing more than to move back home and pick up where we left off. But is that even possible? Is it possible for us to work through our problems while also continuing our physical relationship as if nothing is wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Regina admitted. “As you know, I’ve not done this before, so I don’t know what the etiquette is. And I know you haven’t either so I’m not asking you for the answer. This is new to both of us. All I can do is go on how I feel.”

“And how do you feel?”

Reaching up, Regina cupped Emma’s cheek for a moment before craning up to place a chaste kiss to those downturned lips. Emma allowed the contact for a moment before pulling back, desperate to know Regina’s answer. 

“I feel loved, Emma. You make me feel loved.”

A smile broke over Emma’s face as relief flooded her body. “You are loved,” she breathed, kissing Regina again. “I never stopped loving you. And maybe that was never in doubt but I’m glad you felt it. I felt it too. I felt your love.”

“I do love you,” Regina said at once.

“I know. And I know that’s not the be all and end all. We have more to discuss. But, God, last night was amazing. I felt so … happy.”

A warmth fluttered up inside Regina. “Me too. I want to work on our marriage. I want us to get back to where we were. Last night just reminded me how it feels to be your wife, not just the sex but that intimacy afterwards. Now, even,” she added, gesturing to the fact that her naked skin was cradled in Emma’s own bare body. “I want this, Emma. I want to work to get us back to how we were in every aspect, not just in the bedroom.”

Emma captured the plump lips in a kiss, as if trying to bring those words which filled her to the brim with happiness inside herself. She wanted what Regina wanted. She had always wanted what Regina just said. She wanted to work on their marriage. She wanted to fix her mistake. She wanted the two of them to come together and spend time working to get back to where they once were, or at least back on track for a happy future together. 

She had been nervous that sex might complicate the issue and it was true that when she had awoken to find Regina sleeping peacefully beside her, Emma had panicked slightly. The feel of waking with Regina in her arms had sent a thunderbolt of bliss through her veins. But then she’d been hit by a wave of fear. What if Regina changed her mind? What if the sex had been great but ultimately Regina decided she was better off alone? Emma could feel her anxiety rising and had slowly untangled her arm from around Regina’s waist and eased herself from the bed. She’d curled up on the chaise-lounge and sat, staring out into the early morning scene which was slowly lightening beyond the window. 

Her thoughts had raced. Would Regina regret it? Was Emma regretting it? Would their night change things? For better? For worse? Was this the start of something? Or was it the end? What would happen once the shelter in place instruction was lifted? Would Emma move back to her crummy apartment? What would they tell Henry? And then Regina had woken up and interrupted her spiralling thoughts. For the better, Emma decided as she allowed Regina her turn in dominating the kiss they shared. 

Regina turned her body in the crux of Emma’s legs, allowing her stomach to press lightly into the blonde’s pubis bone. Sliding her hands down the bare skin of Regina’s back, Emma stroked up and down, throwing off the blanket which was no longer needed. Their bodies were producing more than enough heat to keep them warm. 

“Come back to bed,” Regina breathed against Emma’s lips. For as romantic as it was on the chaise, with the lightening morning sky spilling into the room, the angles were awkward. 

Emma nodded and followed as Regina knelt up, chasing those lips which made her insides melt. Hands on skin, lips connected, they stumbled back to the bed and fell into the tousle of linen. Emma found herself on her back, Regina’s knees on either side of her hips, their cores tantalisingly close together. She groaned as the woman lowered herself, bringing her damp centre into contact with the bare skin of her mound.

“You always did enjoy morning sex,” Regina mused against Emma’s neck before kissing her way southwards, shifting her knees to between Emma’s legs and encouraging the blonde to spread herself wider. 

“The best way to start the day,” Emma gasped as a hand cupped her waiting sex. 

“Oh, I most certainly agree,” Regina replied, shimmying back further and laying down on her front as the duvet slid unceremoniously to the floor, kicked out of the way by her feet. Emma gazed down her own body, ignoring the few stretch marks which her pregnancy had left her with and focused instead of Regina who was already placing kisses to her inner thighs. She’d gotten over the changes which carrying Henry had caused to happen to her body. Plus, Regina had always worshiped the small marks which memorialised the growth of their son within Emma. 

And then thoughts of Henry were banished from her mind as a hot, eager tongue, laved across her core. She moaned lightly, fingers gripping the sheet as Regina directed her attention everywhere except where Emma needed her. But she wasn’t concerned. Regina had never left her unfulfilled. The pleasure would come and in the meantime, she was able to enjoy the way the woman quite simply worshipped her. 

Except, this time, she didn’t have to wait long. Regina was more impatient and more direct than she had been in the hours the night before when the two of them had reacquainted themselves with the other’s body. This time Regina moved swiftly to build Emma up, her tongue soon swiping regularly over the woman’s clit in short, sharp flicks. The fingers which curled into her hair told Regina she was on target. Not that Regina needed the reassurance. She could read her wife like a book. 

Before long, Emma found herself rounding her spine, arching her back as the pleasure overwhelmed her body. She cried out softly, pushing her body further into Regina’s mouth, increasing the pressure on her clit to prolong her orgasm. Wave after wave crashed over her, sending her toes curling, blood flushed in her chest and cheeks and her eyes rolled back in her head. Regina didn’t relent until the woman let out a shuddering gasp and she understood the peak to have passed. Instead of moving, however, she remained where she was, turning her attention to kissing the soft flesh of Emma’s inner thighs. They quivered under the tender ministrations, her core still clenching lightly as the post-orgasmic spasms rolled through her body. 

“Regina, come here,” Emma rasped when her senses had returned. 

The woman obeyed at once, scrambling up from the bed and placing a firm kiss to Emma’s mouth before she curled up beside her. Emma rolled into her arms at once, burrowing her face into Regina’s neck and inhaling the familiar, sleepy, sex smell. 

“I love you,” she whispered, lips pressed against skin.

“I love you too,” Regina replied, pulling Emma’s body tight against her own. “And while I didn’t expect this to happen when you got stuck here, I think I’m realising we’ve been given a second chance, an opportunity to try again and to save our marriage. I want this to work, Emma. And I will do whatever I can to make it work.” 

Emma’s heart sang at the words. “Me too. I want this more than anything and I will do whatever it takes to fix what I broke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry about the delay. It’s a bank holiday here in the UK so I figured that counted as the weekend, right?


	15. Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Sunday!

The next time she awoke, the first sensation she became aware of was the warm, bare body pressed against her back. Regina reached down to her stomach and threaded her fingers through Emma’s which lay flush against her skin, and snuggled herself closer into the familiar form.

Roused by the movement, Emma mumbled something unintelligible into the back of Regina’s neck, following the words with several kisses to her smooth skin.

“What was that?” Regina asked, turning her head slightly.

Lips met the lobe of her ear before she got her answer, sucked lightly into Emma’s mouth. “I should go before Henry wakes up,” she murmured at last.

Regina’s brow furrowed. “But you can’t leave the house. We’re under a shelter in place order.”

“I meant back to the guest room,” Emma replied, pulling Regina’s body closer to her. “I think we need to wait until we know how this starts to play out before we tell him.”

“Oh yeah, good idea,” Regina agreed.

“Not that I think we won’t work out,” Emma added hastily. “I mean, I know we’ve got a lot to address but I’m willing to put in the time and I know you are too. But, still, I don’t think we should get his hopes up. You know he’s been bugging me for months to try and make it up to you?”

Regina rolled over in Emma’s arms. “He kept asking me to forgive you,” she admitted, stroking Emma’s high cheekbones with her finger. “He kept saying that you felt really bad and that, whatever it was that happened, you wouldn’t do it again.”

“Smart kid, that one,” Emma grinned with a wink. “But seriously, our kid is probably too invested in our relationship.”

“It’s natural, Emma. Every child wants their parents to be together. And without an explanation, the sudden change in his life was something he wasn’t able to make sense of. It’s only natural that he’d want us to reconcile.”

“Yes, I know,” Emma sighed. “But I still think we shouldn’t tell him, right?”

Regina nodded. “I agree. We know we’re both willing to put in the work and that’s the most important thing at the start, but we also have to be realistic and our willingness doesn’t necessarily mean we’re going to succeed. I mean, I want to, of course. But if we tell Henry we’re getting back together and then it doesn’t work out, it will crush him.”

“It will crush me too,” Emma added, eyes suddenly downcast as she was reminded that, despite the blissful position in which she had woken up, their marriage wasn’t saved yet. In fact, this could truly be the beginning of the end. At that thought, tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

A finger crooked beneath her chin, encouraging the blonde’s eyeline upwards. When they at last met those chocolate orbs, Regina lent forwards and placed a chaste kiss to parted lips. “And me,” she whispered. “I’ll be devastated if this doesn’t work, Emma. And that’s why I’m going to try everything I can to get us back to where we were. But, in the meantime, you’re right. You should go back to the guest room and when this shelter in place order lifts, you’re going to have to move back out.”

“I know,” Emma said with a kiss to Regina’s lips before she untangled herself from the brunette and climbed out of bed. “But it’s going to be really hard. Being back here and living as a family has been amazing.”

“I’ll say,” Regina purred, rolling onto her side and watching as Emma bent down to begin picking up the discarded items of clothing off the floor where they had been tossed blindly the night before.

Emma glanced over her shoulder to see her wife’s dark eyes drinking in the sight. “Are you objectifying me?”

“One hundred per cent,” Regina nodded as Emma did up her bra strap.

“I feel like a piece of meat,” Emma said with mock distress. “Can I borrow a pair of panties?”

Regina groaned. “God, you’re so hot. Of course you can, you evil woman.”

With a wink, Emma set about rummaging her way through Regina’s underwear. Tempted as she was to pull out a black, lace thong just to drive Regina mad with desire, the idea of walking around all day with a piece of string between her ass cheeks made her plump for a more comfortable, silk alternative. Judging by the moan from behind her, Regina didn’t seem to mind the view either way.

By the time she’d finished getting dressed, Regina was sitting up in bed, letting the crumpled sheets fall and gather around her waist. She was scrolling through her phone, glasses balanced on the end of her nose. Emma had half a mind to undress herself and climb back onto the mattress for round three but knew it was cutting it close to the time their son would wake up.

“I’d better get going,” Emma said. “Um, thanks?”

Regina looked up and cocked her head. “Did you just thank me for sex?”

“Yes, but also for giving us a second chance,” Emma replied. “And for everything, I suppose. I know it’s going to be a hard road but at least we’re both at the start line together, right?”

“Right,” Regina smiled. “Don’t forget to act normal today. I mean, I know that’s hard for you,” Emma proved her right in that moment by pulling a silly face, “but we do need to keep this from Henry if possible.”

“I promise to be as normal as I’m capable of being if you’re as unsexy as possible, deal?

“My dear, that’s your problem, not mine. You find me attractive in everything.”

“I know, it’s an affliction. Actually, you’re an affliction.”

Regina rolled her eyes and beckoned Emma closer. The blonde bounded across the room and claimed her kisses until a hand on her shoulder pushed her away. “Go, I’ll see you for breakfast. Don’t come down before eight or Henry will get suspicious. We both know you’re not a morning person.”

“Can we have pancakes?” Emma asked, hand now on the handle of the door.

“Yes, we can have pancakes,” Regina nodded.

Emma beamed, blew her a kiss and waltzed from the room. Regina shook her head in mild disbelief at the realisation that she was seriously committed to trying to make her marriage to that childish woman work. And then she remembered how she felt the night before, how Emma always made her feel; safe and loved and valued and appreciated. Of course she wanted their marriage to work. And she’d do everything possible to make it happen.

* * *

“Pancakes?”

Regina turned around and smiled at her son. “Good morning, my little prince. Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, fine. Pancakes?” he repeated again.

“Yes, I felt like cooking them. Would you like some?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Henry said as he poured himself a large glass of orange juice. “Where’s Ma?”

“Still asleep, I assume,” Regina replied, pouring some batter into the hot pan. “You know she’s not a morning person.”

“I don’t like mornings either. When I’m a proper teenager, will I be allowed to sleep until lunch time?”

“Not on school days but if you get all your homework done on Saturday, you can waste your Sundays sleeping if that’s what you choose to do with your time.”

“Cool! Can I get a TV in my room?”

“No,” came two female voices in unison.

Regina looked up and saw Emma entering the kitchen this time. “Good morning,” the blonde said, avoiding Regina’s eyes but with a soft smile on her lips. “Kid, you know our view on TVs in bedrooms. It’s never going to change. Stop asking.”

Henry pouted but said no more, instead pulling the maple syrup towards him and pushing off the cap in preparation for the pancakes which were on their way.

“Would you like pancakes too, Emma?” Regina asked nonchalantly as she flipped Henry’s.

“Oh, you’re making pancakes?” Emma asked, feigning ignorance. “That sounds delicious, thank you, Regina.”

Henry was too busy trying to work out how he could slather as much of the sticky syrup onto his breakfast before his moms stepped in to stop him to notice Emma’s overacting.

“There’s coffee in the pot too,” Regina said, gesturing to the steaming silver container.

Within ten minutes, the trio were sat around the table, Henry using the last piece of pancake to mop up a lake of syrup and Regina and Emma trying to make conversation with their son rather than one another. The awkwardness which that resulted in at least was consistent with the atmosphere in the house prior to their night of passionate love making. As long as Henry was clueless to why his mothers were not interacting normally, that was what mattered.

“I’m gonna go play something. Ma, wanna join?” he asked, pushing his chair back and standing up.

“Henry, please speak properly,” Regina sighed. “And take your plate and glass to the dishwasher please.”

The boy huffed but did as instructed. Emma and Regina exchanged a sidelong look and identical smirks. Emma reached out, allowing her pinkie finger to interlink with Regina’s where it lay curled around the coffee mug.

“So, Mother Emma, would you be so kind as to join me for a game in the drawing room?” Henry asked once his minute chore was done.

Emma, who had pulled away from Regina the moment their son turned around, raised her eyebrows at the mock British accent. “Kid, don’t be pedantic. We don’t even have a drawing room in this house. Your mom was just asking you to use recognisable words from the English language.”

Henry rolled his eyes, perfectly imitating the expression Regina had directed towards Emma that morning. “Come on, you know what I mean.”

“I’ll be with you in a few minutes. I’m going to finish my coffee and help your mom tidy the kitchen, ok?”

Henry nodded and headed out of the room, grabbing an apple on the way past the fruit bowl although after the six pancakes he had eaten, neither woman could understand how he could possibly still be hungry.

“He’s going to be so much fun when he’s a teenager,” Emma deadpanned.

Regina groaned. “Don’t remind me.” She stood and began gathering the plates but before she could do more than stack them, Emma’s hand landed on her forearm.

“Let me,” she said, pecking Regina’s lips which smiled back at her. “You’ve got to work today. The least I can do is wash up.”

“Actually, I don’t have to work. The college emailed and said not to bother. Apparently the shelter in place instruction will be lifted by Monday so the students can just have a long weekend.”

“It’s Friday today,” Emma remarked. “Does that mean I’ll have to leave in three days?”

“Sooner, I think. The media seem to think it will be declared safe by Saturday afternoon.”

Turning around from the dishwasher which she was stacking, Emma pouted. “Tomorrow? I don’t want to go home.”

Regina hesitated before answering, getting to her feet and crossing to close the door which led from the hallway into the kitchen. With this additional barrier between their conversation at their son, whose game was already fired up judging by the noise coming from the lounge, she turned back to Emma.

“I know you don’t. I don’t want you to leave either, in many ways. It’s going to be hard but we both know it’s the right thing to do. One step at a time and I don’t think we’re ready for you to come back here permanently.”

“I wish we were. I wish I could wake up every morning with you in my arms.”

Regina crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Emma’s waist. “Me too. And soon, let’s hope, that can happen. But for now, we may as well just enjoy these last couple of days when we can play happy families.”

“Does that mean I can sleep in your bed again tonight? And by sleep, I mean have sex, by the way, in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Oh, that was obvious, my dear. If you were a man, I’m pretty sure there’d be an erection pressed against my pelvis right now.”

Emma wrinkled her nose at the thought and pulled her hips away. “Way to kill the mood,” she grumbled.

But Regina just laughed, tugging her back in and kissing her softly. “Yes, Emma. You may sleep in my room tonight. And I do expect toe-curling sex to be a part of our evening activity, if you feel so inclined.”

The blonde practically growled into Regina’s mouth as she claimed her lips in a hungry kiss. Regina could feel her insides coiling, hot and desperate, but knew that with their son a few metres away, nothing could happen.

“Not here, not yet,” Regina breathed, taking a step back and breaking the intoxicating contact. “Go and play games with Henry. I’m going to start looking online for a relationship therapist who specialises in addiction issues.”

“Ok, thanks. And just so you know,” she added, walking back into Regina’s personal space and wrapping her in her arms once more, “I’m holding you to that promise of toe-curling sex.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Is your country easing lockdown? The UK is a shitshow at the moment with conflicting opinions everywhere. I’m staying put but I’m lucky enough to work from home anyway. It’s a scary world right now. Stay safe. And if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. Tweet me SwanQueenUKFF.


	16. Communicating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is late because it’s my 30th birthday today and I wanted to selfishly gift myself your reviews. I know, complete narcissist. Also, I was late writing the chapter, sorry!

Placing her second mug of coffee carefully on the side table, Emma flopped down on the couch beside her son and picked up the spare controller which lay waiting for her.

“Right, kid. What are we playing?” she asked.

“Don’t mind, you pick,” Henry said without taking his eyes off the screen where he was manoeuvring a pimped-out car at unrealistic speeds through dark streets, leaving a trail of animated debris in his wake.

Emma waited for him to finish (the conclusion coming when he flipped his car on the edge of a low wall and crashed into some water) then suggested the less violent and altogether jollier and family-friendly racing game. Minutes later, a yellow bear was careening across a beach in the top half of the screen, closely followed by a purple hippo in the bottom half.

“Hey!” Emma cried indignantly as her character spun around with stars over its head after being hit with a bomb.

“Sorry not sorry,” Henry replied as his own cart sped past. “You can’t beat me at this, Ma. Don’t bother trying.”

Emma scowled but she knew her son was right. She may be much better than Regina, who tended to get bored halfway through a lap, but she was always left in the dust of her son who seemed to be gifted with a natural ability. It was a shame that ability didn’t extend to something more valuable such as being good at maths or showing an aptitude for art, but at least he enjoyed it.

After the third game in a row in which Henry was crowned victorious, they changed to a dual person shooter, Emma resigned to the fact that her son was going to play those types of games and that he understood that just because he shot people on-screen, that didn’t mean he should go out and buy a gun tomorrow. Plus, Emma liked playing the game as well.

“So, Mom hasn’t killed you yet,” Henry remarked as he and Emma’s avatars stood hidden in a building, waiting for the enemy to show themselves. “That’s good, right?”

“No, she hasn’t,” Emma replied.

“Are you two getting along? Has she forgiven you yet?”

“Henry, I – enemy, bottom left.”

The two trained their weapons through a blow-out window and mowed down the rogue soldiers before retreating back into their hideout.

“So?” Henry prompted once they were sure the coast was clear.

“So what?”

“Did Mom forgive you? Do you guys love each other again?”

Emma sighed. Clearly she wasn’t getting out of this conversation. She had always been honest with her son, up until the moment her marriage fell apart. Now she felt unable to tell the boy who idolised her what she had done to tear his family apart. Not yet, at least. And certainly not when her future was so uncertain. Yes, she and Regina had agreed to work on their issues. Yes, she wanted more than anything for their marriage to work. Yes, the previous night had been one of the best of her life. But she was also realistic. They did have issues. They had problems within their marriage. She had problems. She was an addict. And no matter how much the two of them might want to get their relationship back on track, nothing was certain. She couldn’t bear the idea of giving Henry false hope and then taking it away from him again.

“Henry, I will always love your mom,” Emma began, at least offering him that truth. “And she’ll love me, simply because together we were a family with you. That will never change. And you’ll never not have both of us in your life, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know. But when are you moving back in? These last few days have been awesome, right?”

“You mean, aside from the poisonous air outside the house?”

“Well, yeah, obviously that’s bad. Did you know over one hundred people have died and loads are in hospital?”

“Yes, I saw the news report this morning.” Emma had been jolted back to reality when she’d read that new notification. She may have been grateful for the opportunity to spend time with her family again, but she had to remember what had happened to bring about the shelter in place order. People had died. More people would die. She was here because it wasn’t safe to be outside but maybe something good could come out of it all. “Look, it’s been great being back here. I’ve told you before, I would move back home immediately if your mom wanted that. But we’re not at that stage, ok?”

Henry snapped his gaze to his blonde mother. “Stage? What stage are you at?”

Realising what she had said, or implied, the tips of her ears burned hot, but Emma remained fixated on the game in front of her, instructing her avatar to run forwards and crouch behind a burned-out car. “We’re not at any stage, Henry. “

“Well you must be at some stage, to be fair,” Henry mused. “The current stage being that you’re trapped in here but you two are separated, right? So, what’s the next stage? What needs to happen for you to move back in here? Can I help?”

So, this conversation isn’t going the way I want, Emma mused, pausing the game and laying her controller down. “Look, kid,” she began, turning to face Henry but before she could say anything more, Henry spoke again.

“Don’t call me kid any more, Ma. I’m eleven. I’m not a baby. I know you guys have problems. I know something happened. I know you did something bad and that Mom was upset. But she’s not upset now, is she? She’s not angry any more. At least, she’s not so angry that she won’t cook you pancakes. I can tell something’s changed. Even from how she was two days ago when you were late bringing me home to this morning. It’s different between you guys. I’m not stupid. Something has changed and I think it’s something good. So why won’t you tell me? Why won’t you tell me what’s going on? I can help you move back in sooner. Please, Ma. I want you to come home.”

His hazel eyes sparkled for a moment before he swiped angrily at the tears which had exposed his feelings. Because eleven-year olds don’t have feelings. At least not too many and he’d already had one crying episode in the past twenty-four hours.

“Henry, sweetie, I know you want to help and I know you want me to move back home. I want that too and I promise you I am working on it. I’m sorry if you think me and your mom treat you like you don’t understand. You’re right, you are not a little kid any more and you do understand. But there are some things which are for adults to deal with and for parents in particular. Your mom and I want what’s best for you and that means you’re going to have to give us a little time, ok?”

“So, you guys are talking about you moving back in?” Henry asked, face full of hope having glommed onto that passing comment.

“Not yet,” Emma replied. “But we are talking, ok? You said you could tell something was different and you’re right. Your mom and I were up last night talking a lot about you and our family. That’s the first step; communication. And we’re going to continue to communicate and talk to see what we can fix and what we can’t in our marriage. All we need from you is to keep being a happy child, enjoying your life and knowing that both of us love you. And when the time is right, we’ll come and talk to you about what we decide, ok?”

Henry nodded slowly, a small smile on his lips. “You guys are really talking? About getting back together?”

“We’re just talking,” Emma said firmly, practically seeing the boy’s level of hope rise before her eyes.

Despite Emma’s qualifier, Henry beamed at her before throwing his arms around his ma’s neck. Emma hugged him back, praying that she wasn’t going to let him down. When Regina poked her head into the room three hours later to announce lunch, the duo were still sat side by side, engaged in a furious battle for the future of mankind.

Like peas in a pod, Regina mused as she headed back to the kitchen and waited for her family to join her.

* * *

After lunch, when their plates were scraped clean, Regina asked Henry to take care of the dishwasher and to tidy the kitchen.

“Why?” the boy asked, sticking his bottom lip out petulantly.

“One, because I asked you,” Regina repined. “And two, because I need to speak to your ma about something.”

At that, Henry’s eyes lit up. He turned to Emma, gave her the most obvious wink ever, and set about his chore. Regina looked curiously at the blonde who avoided her gaze. She did, however, follow Regina from the room when asked to join her in the older woman’s study.

“What did you say to Henry?” Regina asked as soon as the door was shut behind them.

“Nothing! I just said we were talking,” Emma defended. “He said he could tell something had changed between us and then he was asking when I was moving back in. Then he almost cried, Regina,” she added as if it really wasn’t her fault that she’d confessed to their son.

“So you didn’t tell him about last night?”

At that, Emma folded her arms. “You mean, did I tell our eleven-year-old son that his moms had mind blowing sex several times last night? No, Regina, shocking I chose to keep that piece of information to myself.”

“Mind blowing?” Regina repeated, cockily raising an eyebrow as she swaggered over to Emma, looping her arms around her neck.

“Mind melting,” Emma nodded. “You turn my brain to goo, Regina Swan-Mills.”

“Mmm, sexy,” Regina purred before pressing a kiss to Emma’s lips. She didn’t mean to. She hadn’t wanted to slip back into behaving like their old married selves with Emma after the night they had shared. She had told herself in no uncertain terms during her shower that morning that she was not to make any advances, not to initiate any contact between the two of them, at least until Henry went to bed. But there was something about the way Emma which, as she had been reminded last night, she found irresistible.

“So Henry doesn’t know?” she clarified when the kiss ended.

“No, he doesn’t. But he does know we’re talking. I tried to stop him getting his hopes up at all but I’m not sure if I succeeded.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing he knows we’re talking, consider what I wanted to speak with you about.”

“Oh yes?”

Regina nodded and unthreaded her arms from Emma, walking over to her desk and swivelling around her laptop to show the blonde the screen. “I found a therapist. He specialises in couples who are living with addiction. I’ve contacted him and he said he can fit us in for a session via Zoom at four this afternoon.”

“What’s Zoom?” Emma asked.

“No idea. I’d never heard of it before. I think it’s like Skype.”

“Why not just use Skype?”

“I don’t know, Emma. Apparently it’s some new piece of technology which everyone is now using. The point is, Doctor Hopper has time to see us today for an hour. Do you want me to confirm with him? We’ll obviously have to tell Henry but since you basically already did, I suppose that won’t be a problem.”

“Yes, confirm it,” Emma nodded at once. “That’s great, Regina. Thank you. I’ll tell Henry when we’re playing later. But I’ll just say we’re going to talk. I won’t mention the therapist, right?”

“No, I think we should tell him. I don’t think we should hide the fact that we can’t fix our issues without help. He doesn’t have to know Doctor Hopper’s speciality but maybe he’ll understand that we can’t just sit down and chat everything through; that it’s going to take more than the two of us talking. Plus, I’d hope that by setting this example to him, if he ever felt like he needed to talk to a professional himself, he’d be more open to the idea.”

“Ok, that’s true. I’ll tell him we’re seeing a marriage counsellor then. Is that ok?”

“Sounds good. In the meantime, since it’s a rare day off for me, I’m going to read on my bed for a while. Are you two going to play games all day?”

Emma shrugged. “Probably. It’s not like we can go outside, is it? Henry’s seen the death figures by the way. Do you think we should talk to him about that?”

“About people dying?”

“About disasters like this. Freak accidents. You know, those random events which come along every now and then and shock the world. Natural disasters, pandemics, all that fun stuff.”

“You want to sit our eleven-year-old son down and talk to him about Ebola or SARS and hurricanes and tsunamis? Emma, he’ll be petrified.”

“He has to learn one day. This world is scary, Regina. Shouldn’t we at least prepare him?”

“Not like that. Jesus, Emma. What do you two talk about when I’m not around? Please don’t go fear-mongering our child. We can talk to him about the chemical leak and then as and when all of the other horrific things you mentioned happen, we’ll address those too. But all at once? That’s a recipe for a child with chronic anxiety.”

Emma nodded slowly. “Yup, ok, fair point. One day at a time. So, see you here at four, right?”

“Well, the consultation starts at four and since I know your timekeeping abilities leave much to be desired, why don’t you aim for three thirty?”

“Rude,” Emma pouted. “I’ll be coming from the living room to here. That’s literally ten yards.”

“I’ll see you at three thirty, Emma,” Regina repeated, closing the laptop and kissing Emma before sweeping out of the room and up the stairs to her bedroom.

Emma stood, indignant, for a moment before heading off to find her son and resume their morning game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ok, hands up who had never heard of Zoom before lockdown and now uses it if not daily then weekly? I know our ladies are only on day two and I’ve written this to only be three days but turns out poisonous gas dissipates pretty quickly!


	17. Punctuality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for all the lovely birthday messages. And I loved how so many of you guys agree with me about Zoom!

There were many different approaches when it came to parenting, Emma had learned over the years. Some worked better than others. Some suited her style of parenting. Others were more Regina’s vibe. Some were successful. Others were complete failures. But when it came to telling her son that she and Regina were going to be speaking to a therapist, Emma went for the band aid approach. Before Henry had the chance to ask what his mothers had talked about, Emma dived in.

“So, your mom and I are going to have a Zoom call with a therapist at four o’clock today.”

“A what?” Henry asked, still playing his game.

“I know, I hadn’t heard of it either. Zoom, weird name, right? Anyway, it’s like Skype or some other video calling software apparently.”

“No, Ma, I know what Zoom is. I used to use it with my mates all the time. But we use Houseparty now.”

“You’re going to house parties already? You’re eleven.”

Henry groaned and paused his game. “Oh my god you’re so uncool! Houseparty, Ma. It’s an app. Like Skype but better. And better than Zoom too cos you don’t have to pay. But that’s not what I was asking you about. You and Mom are seeing a shrink?”

“A therapist,” Emma corrected. “Yes, we’ve decided that we should talk to someone else about some of our relationship problems as a first step. It can help to have an impartial third party to act as the go-between when you’re talking about difficult topics like marriage.”

“So you’re seeing a marriage counsellor?”

“Yes, how do you know that phrase?”

“Roland’s mom is a marriage counsellor,” Henry shrugged. “So, does this mean you guys both want to try and fix things between you? It’s a good sign that means Mom wants you to move back home, right?”

“It’s an important first step,” Emma replied, carefully choosing her words. “But counselling doesn’t always work, Henry. Just because we try this, and today is only the first session, remember. But even if we do try therapy and talk to someone for weeks and months, there is still no guarantee that we can repair our marriage.” She may have been saying them to her son, but Emma felt as if the words were also intended to check her own hopes, even though they were already sky high. “The important thing is that we’re both trying. So yes, it’s a good sign that your mom is on board with seeing someone.”

Henry beamed. “It’s a great sign! And all you now have to do is win at therapy and then you can move back in.”

“Win at therapy? Kid, you’ve been playing way too many games. Do you think we should stop -”

Before she could finish the sentence, Henry had restarted the game and thrust the spare controller at Emma, determined not to be cut off from his favourite pastime. Emma hesitated but relented when she realised that the game Henry had picked to play after lunch was one she could actually play quite well. Within seconds, they were both absorbed in the animated fantasy world.

* * *

Regina looked up from her book when she heard a knock on the ajar bedroom door and smiled when she saw a blonde head peering at her.

“Hello,” she said, sliding her bookmark into place and then waving Emma in. “How is your game going?”

“Oh, you know, our son is beating me every time,” Emma shrugged before sitting on the edge of the chaise lounge upon which Regina was reclining, queen-like. Emma had teased Regina when she pointed out the piece of furniture in a catalogue a year or so into their marriage, but she had come to love it over time. It was where she had sat in the early hours, Henry nursing from her breast. Or where Regina had curled up when she gave Henry a bottle. Emma had loved waking to the sight of the brunette, cradling their young son in her arms and singing softly to him.

“Emma?”

The blonde blinked and refocused on Regina’s face which was peering at her with curiosity. “What?”

“I asked you a question and you didn’t seem to hear me. Are you ok?”

“Yeah, sorry. I zoned out. Just thinking, you know?”

“Good thoughts?” Regina asked, unable to judge for herself where Emma’s mind appeared to have wandered from the woman’s expression.

“Yes, memories. Of Henry when he was young.”

Regina gave a soft smile. “He was a beautiful baby.”

Emma nodded, doe eyed as she recalled a chubby baby with a shock of dark hair, settled in her arms, contented after a feed. “He really was. But now he’s a pre-teen who whoops my ass at every game he owns.”

“And that answered the question you didn’t hear,” Regina chuckled.

“Which was?”

“Whether you think we allow him to play too much.”

“Well, perhaps in normal life we should cut down on his screen time but we can’t exactly make him go outside now, can we? Pretty sure that would be child abuse.”

“True but I think a conscious effort to encourage him to use his imagination when all of this is over could be a good idea. Anyway, what did you come up here for?”

At that, Emma grinned widely. “Ha, see! I’m not the only one of us who’s late. It’s ten to four. I went to your office first, assuming you’d be there getting that Zoom thing set up or whatever but when you weren’t, I came to find you. And you’re up here; forgetting!”

Regina pursed her lips. She hated being late. Not that she was. Their appointment didn’t start for another ten minutes. But it was a point of pride that she was always punctual. She could count on one hand how many times during their relationship Emma had been ready for an engagement before her. The blonde loved to tease her about her punctuality even though Regina considered it a point of pride.

“My book is very good,” Regina said in defence of herself. “I lost track of time. Did you tell Henry about our session, by the way?”

“Yep! And he didn’t forget like you did. He wished me good luck and told me to ‘win at therapy’ as I left the room. So, another sign that perhaps he plays games too much but at least he doesn’t forget important appointments.”

Standing up from the chaise, Regina reached for a cardigan to wear over her blouse and headed for the door. Before she reached it, however, she felt Emma’s hand on her wrist.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’m just teasing you about forgetting,” the blonde said, placing a soft kiss to Regina’s neck. “I love that you’re organised. Without you, I’d never get anything done.”

Regina turned on the spot and looked up into Emma’s face. “That’s not true,” she replied, placing a kiss to Emma’s parted lips. “You’d get stuff done, but not on time.”

Another kiss, a wink, and Regina continued her journey out of their bedroom and down to the study, Emma hurrying along beside. After checking in on Henry and reminding him that they’d be finished in an hour and not to eat any more snacks because dinner wouldn’t be served long after that, the duo headed into Regina’s study and closed the door.

“Can he hear what we say in here?” Emma asked, glancing back at the heavy wooden door.

“Maybe if he pressed his ear against it,” Regina surmised. “Do you think he’s likely to eavesdrop?”

“I don’t know. He wants us back together but I don’t know how invested he is in finding out what happened and listening in on what we’re saying to try and fix things.”

“Well, let’s assume our son has enough manners not to spy on his mothers,” Regina said, pulling a chair over to place beside her computer chair. “Do you want to discuss anything before we start, by the way?”

“I don’t think so,” Emma replied. “Do you?”

“No, I think we need to go into this open and honest, that’s all. I want this to work, Emma. I want this therapy to allow us to talk and to get all of our issues out onto the table and then to work through them. And I’m willing to put in the work to do that.”

“Me too,” Emma said, reaching for Regina’s hands and grasping them in her own.

“But,” Regina swallowed as she saw Emma’s face drop at the single word, “I also want us to keep communicating outside of these sessions. If things aren’t working or if there are problems which we aren’t addressing, we both need to speak up, ok? I feel … I mean … I don’t want to …”

Emma dropped Regina’s hands and sat down in the chair the woman had positioned for her. “Just say it, Regina, please,” she murmured, looking up into the older woman’s face.

“I’m scared,” Regina admitted after a moment’s silence.

“Me too,” Emma replied. “What are you scared of?”

Regina took her own seat before answering. “I’m scared that we’re going to slip into our old routine, our old lives, without really addressing the problems. It would be so easy, Emma. After last night, after this morning. The thought of just telling you I forgive you for everything that happened and asking you to come back is so … easy. It would be wonderful. We’d be so happy. I’d be so happy. But I know it wouldn’t last. I don’t want to do that; to go for the quick, easy fix. I want to put in the work and rebuild our marriage to a stronger place and I’m scared that as we move forwards we’re going to lose sight of that and just go back to being who we were and then, at some point in the future, we’ll find our marriage in trouble again.”

“I understand that,” Emma said quietly. “Do you think we should talk about that to this Doctor Hopper?”

“Yes,” Regina nodded. “Definitely. But I also need to keep reminding myself of it. And I need you to be aware that that’s how I feel.”

“Ok,” Emma agreed. “I understand.”

“What about you? What are you scared of?” Regina asked.

“Everything,” Emma chuckled before sobering up and continuing. “I’m scared of this therapy not working. I’m scared of fucking up again. I’m scared of losing you for good. I’m scared that you’ll realise you could do better. I’m scared that Henry will learn what I’ve done. I’m scared that I’ll never be able to forgive myself for what I’ve done. I’m scared -”

Lips pressed firmly against her own stemmed the flood of Emma’s words. She mumbled for a moment before succumbing to the pressure and allowing the kiss, feeling her own mouth move against Regina’s. It was only when the brunette’s tongue requested entry that she tasted salt and realised she was crying. Regina’s hands slid up to cup her jaw, thumbs caressing her cheeks and wiping away her sorrow.

“I still love you,” Regina whispered against parted lips when the kiss ended. “I’ll always love you, whatever happens in the future. And I know you probably won’t ever forgive yourself, but I am going to do everything I can to try and overcome my feelings and forgive you. I’ll always be in your life in some way, Emma. You’ll never lose me; we share a son. And Henry is going to find out, but we can manage that together, regardless of our relationship status. I promise you that you’re not alone when it comes to that conversation. Let’s just keep talking, ok? During therapy sessions and when it’s just the two of us. Whatever it takes to identify a clear path to our future, whatever that future may be.”

“I want our future to be us, the three of us, together,” Emma said, wiping her eyes. “That’s the only future I want.”

“I want that too,” Regina assured her. “But we have to find a way to get there. That’s what this therapy is about. It’s almost time for our session, by the way. I need to set up Zoom. Apparently, you just click a link in an email which Doctor Hopper’s secretary has sent. Are you ok?”

Emma nodded and swiped once more at her eyes. “Yeah, I’m ok. Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Therapy session next, I promise!


	18. Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This therapy session is going to span at least a couple of chapters … Also, I’m not a therapist!

Sitting side by side, Emma and Regina waited in silence for Dr Archie Hopper to start the Zoom meeting after they clicked the link as instructed. At one minute past four, the two women glanced at one another. 

“What now?” Emma asked, confused by the new software. 

“I guess we just wait. Maybe he’s running late from his last meeting,” Regina reasoned.

No sooner had she spoken than the screen changed and a box flashed up inviting the two women to join with audio. Regina reached over to click the appropriate buttons as the image of a middle-aged man, with thinning red hair and horn-rimmed glasses appeared before them.

“Good afternoon,” he said, smiling warmly from the screen. “Apologies about the slight delay. Technical problems. I’m still getting used to Zoom.”

“No problem,” Regina replied, settling back in her seat now she was confident everything was working correctly. “Thank you for seeing us at such short notice.”

“Not at all,” the man said with a small shake of his head. “So, let’s start with introductions. I’m Doctor Archie Hopper. I’m a former psychiatrist but for the past ten years I’ve been a relationship counsellor and I specialise in couples where there are issues of addiction.”

Did Emma imagine it or did the man’s eyes slide over to her as he spoke. No, that was just paranoia. No one could actually look where they wanted to through a web cam. 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Doctor Hopper,” Regina said. “I’m Regina Swan-Mills. I spoke to your receptionist earlier today to arrange this meeting.”

There was a pause before Emma realised she was supposed to introduce herself. For some reason, she thought Regina was going to speak on her behalf. “Oh, and I’m Emma Swan-Mills. I’m the addict.” She accompanied this statement with a little wave of her hand and a shy smile. 

Out of sight of the screen, Regina placed her hand on Emma’s thigh and squeezed lightly. 

“Ok, well then let’s jump right in. Regina, my receptionist has noted here that the two of you have been married for thirteen years, together for sixteen, have a son but are not currently living together, is that correct?”

“Well, it was correct until a couple of days ago,” Regina nodded. “But we live close to the chemical plant and Emma happened to be here dropping our son, Henry, off when the shelter in place order was issued. So Emma’s been back in the family home for two days now and this time has given us the opportunity to talk in more detail about our relationship. Which I suppose is how we came to be having this call with you.”

“I see. So Emma, when not under a government lockdown, where do you currently live and how long have you been there?”

“I’ve got a small apartment in town. It’s about a ten minute drive away and really close to Henry’s school so he can walk over to see me on days when I look after him. I moved out in November, so just over five months.”

Archie nodded as he made a note on his file. “Ok, thank you. So the separation happened back in November. Is this the first time you’ve sought professional help?” Both women nodded. “Ok, and what made you reach out at this time?”

Emma and Regina exchanged a look. While neither of them had brought it up, both were thinking that their night together was unlikely to be looked favourably upon by a therapist. The man watching this interaction sensed their apprehension immediately. 

“Look, I know you don’t know me and I know this is only our first session but let me just say here that the way I can best help you both is if you are completely honest with me about everything. I don’t want you to disclose anything you’re not comfortable talking about, but I can assure you that I’ve been doing this a long time and not much shocks me anymore. This is a safe space and I’m here to help you, not judge you.”

“We slept together,” Emma blurted out. “Last night. And this morning. You didn’t need to know that last detail, I suppose.” Her cheeks reddened. “We talked a lot last night. We realised we still love each other but there are deep trust issues as well as my gambling addiction which both need to be addressed before Regina feels ready to invite me back. Which I totally respect,” Emma added, looking at Regina who offered a soft smile. “I don’t want to push Regina into moving any faster than she’s ready when it comes to our relationship. And there’s our son to think about too. We don’t want to become a single family unit again until we’re confident we can make it work. But we’re willing to do what it takes to get there, right?”

At that last statement, Emma looked to Regina again, a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze. But Regina quelled that immediately with a smile. “Absolutely. We want to put in the work to get our relationship back on track. Or at least try our very best to do so. I think it’s fair to say I’m the one who has to address some of my fundamental misgivings with regards to our relationship in addition to Emma’s addiction, but the last two days have reminded me of how much I love Emma.”

“Ok, this is a great start, thank you for being so honest with me. Do you want to talk about what happened last night?”

“I mean, do we have to?” Emma asked, already afraid that Doctor Hopper was going to announce that the two women should refrain from sex until their relationship was more stable. And while she conceded that he would probably be correct if that were his assumption, she desperately didn’t want to go back to the guest room. 

“Only if you two do. But as a significant turning point in your journey as a couple when it comes to repairing a relationship, it might be worth just making sure you’re both on the same page. After all, sex can make things complicated, even if you’re having sex with someone you’ve been in a relationship with for years.”

Regina’s hand on Emma’s thigh tightened slightly before the brunette spoke. “I think if I’m honest with myself and with Emma, what happened last night was a surprise to me. When Emma and I realised she was going to be stuck here for a few days, I was apprehensive about how it would work but I didn’t ever think we’d end up in bed together. But then we talked. Of course we talked back in November when Emma first told me that she’d been gambling again but at that time I was so upset and angry and felt so betrayed,” beneath Regina’s palm Emma’s thigh tensed, “that the conversations weren’t exactly productive. I wasn’t in the right headspace to listen to what she was saying because of how I felt. A lot of what was said last night had been said before but now, with months to process and come to terms with what happened, I felt like I was more open to listening and communicating in a way which reminded me of our relationship back in the old days. It was … refreshing. And yes, perhaps it wasn’t the smartest idea to fall back into bed but I don’t regret last night. Do you?” This last question was directed at the blonde.

“No,” Emma said at once. “Not at all. Never.”

“Ok, so have the two of you discussed what the reintroduction of sex in your relationship means? I know you’re talking with me today but this is just the start, if I understand you correctly. You two aren’t ready to pick up where you left off so what happens when the stay at home order lifts, which I believe is due to happen tomorrow, correct?”

“Yes, we’ve talked a bit about that, right?” Regina said, looking to Emma for confirmation.

“Yeah, well, I’m going to go back to my apartment. I’ve already told Regina that I would move back in here immediately if that is what she wants but I respect her request for us to keep working on our relationship before we take that step. To be honest, I think a lot of this is to do with our son. Henry’s eleven and he really wants us to get back together. If we try and it doesn’t work, it’ll crush him. So I agree with Regina that it makes sense to wait until we’re confident that we’re addressing our problems and are going to be able to overcome them before I move back. And that has to be Regina’s call.”

“So after the lockdown is lifted, you two will go back to being a separated couple and continue therapy, correct?” Both women nodded. “And will that separation include sex?”

“Um …” Emma glanced at Regina. 

“We’ve not talked about that,” Regina admitted. “I was worried, as you say, that sex would complicate things but I feel happy with our decision last night. I don’t regret it and I wouldn’t object to continuing our physical relationship as we move forwards. It helps me feel close to Emma and as long as we’re both clear that having sex doesn’t fix everything, I don’t see the harm. But, Doctor Hopper, what do you think?”

“I don’t see it my business to dictate to a couple what they should and shouldn’t do together in bed,” Archie said. “Every relationship is different and it sounds to me as if you’re both going into this with your eyes wide open. That’s all you can ask of one another. Just make sure you keep those lines of communication open and express your emotions as clearly as possible, as soon as possible.”

“We can do that,” Emma nodded, threading her fingers through Regina’s where they still lay atop her thigh. 

“Ok, great, so shall we go back to November now? What happened?”

When Regina didn’t say anything, Emma realised the task of delivering this explanation fell, rightly, to her. “I fell off the wagon,” she said simply. “I gambled. I’ve been an addict since my early twenties. I was clean when Regina first met me, sixteen years ago and I had a slip about a year into our relationship. But then I’d been clean for years. I went to meetings when I felt the urge but I didn’t go frequently. I was always aware, I suppose, in the way addicts are, but it wasn’t a huge part of my life. Then …” she sighed. “I slipped. Last summer. It was just one bet and I felt sick about it. I didn’t tell Regina that night and I was so mad at myself. I went to a meeting the next day but less than twenty four hours later I was in a casino. It was a slippery slope from there. When I realised I’d lost my wages for the month, I …”

Emma trailed off, a lump in her throat. Beside her, Regina waited patiently for her wife to continue. Archie, too, didn’t want to interrupt the blonde’s flow and instead gave her time to gather her thoughts. 

“I took a couple of grand out of our son’s college fund. I used most of it to cover my losses and then tried to use the rest to recover the rest. It didn’t work and instead of stopping and coming clean, I took out more. Lost it. Withdrew more. Lost it. And then I started to win. Finally. I hit a lucky streak and I was thrilled, I pulled out fifty thousand then, intent on winning back all that I’d lost, and then some. But, well, you can’t win against the house, right? And I lost the bets I placed too. By November, the fog had lifted and I suddenly saw what I’d done. I realised I couldn’t hide it and I knew I couldn’t win back the awful amount of money I’d lost. I told Regina everything and, well, here we are.”

Archie, who had been listening intently, took off his glasses and scratched the ridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Emma. Gambling is one of the most devastating and least talked about forms of addiction but millions of people suffer in this country. Thank you for your honesty. Are you still going to Gamblers Anonymous?”

“Yes, well, not during this lockdown but usually I go three times a week. To be honest, I’ve not actually found it hard to stay away since November but I’m going to the meetings anyway. Sometimes I wonder whether I got complacent last time and that’s why I ended up falling off the wagon so badly. I won’t let it happen again. Plus I’ve done all the usual stuff with putting bans on my credit cards and browsers. For now, I feel like I have my addiction under control.”

“That’s great, Emma. Congratulations. Although I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that you will always be a recovering addict. There’s no such thing as a recovered addict.”

“I know. And I know this is something I will have to live with for the rest of my life. But I feel strong. I feel ready to face it.”

“And you, Regina? How do you feel about everything that had happened?”

There was a pause before Regina spoke, the brunette looking down at her lap rather than at her wife. “When Emma first told me, I was so angry. It wasn’t just the amount of money or that she’d taken it from our son’s college fund which had been set up by my late parents,” a thrum of guilt shot through Emma, “I was also angry that she’d let it get so far. I was angry with her for not telling me sooner, for not coming to me when she first found herself teetering on the edge, not when she was six figures down. I felt betrayed, not by her gambling but by her refusal to speak with me about it. It was like she didn’t trust me, didn’t believe I would be there to support her. Maybe she’s right. I was the one who asked her to leave.”

“Regina, no. I don’t blame you for not wanting me here,” Emma said quickly. 

“Let Regina speak,” Archie advised. “You’ll have your chance to respond, Emma.”

The blonde fell silent, chastised. Regina reached for a sip of water before she continued.

“I’ve known about Emma’s addiction throughout the whole of our relationship. I accepted it about her. I helped her the first time she found herself gambling again and I want to help her this time. But at the end of the day, only Emma is responsible for her gambling choices. I want to be there for her. I will be there for her. And I am hopeful for her recovery. But a little bit of me I think is always going to be wondering, to be questioning when the next mistake will come. I’m sorry, Emma,” Regina said, turning to the blonde with tears in her eyes. “I do believe in you. I just …”

Emma was crying too. It wasn’t as if the news was new. What did she expect? It would be unrealistic to ask Regina to forgive Emma and move on, trusting her implicitly when it came to her gambling addiction. But the words still hurt. Mostly because they echoed her own sentiment. 

“I’m trying really hard,” Emma said, so quietly Archie had to strain to hear. “I’m working my program every day and I will do everything I can to never gamble again. But a little piece of me worries too. I think it always will. All I can say is that I promise to keep talking to you, to tell you whenever I’m wobbling, whenever I feel tempted. That’s all I can do, Regina. Is that enough?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: shameless self promotion alert! I’ve started a new fanfic for Law & Order SVU. I know, shocking! I’ve never written for any fandom other than OUAT. It’s a Rolivia (lesbian couple, for those not familiar) story which will be colleagues > friends > lovers trajectory. If you’re interested, check it out! It’s called I Haven’t Given Up Hope. And I’ll be updating that every Tuesday, I think!


	19. Honest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Sunday!

The silence stretched on. To Emma, it felt like the longest few seconds of her life, elongated into hours, days, months, years. But it really was just a few seconds and then Regina was nodding, brown eyes glittering as they scanned Emma’s face, drinking in that raw, honest outpouring of emotion. 

“Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, that’s enough, Emma. That’s all I ever asked of you. That’s all I ever will ask of you. A promise that if you ever start to feel tempted to gamble that you’ll come to me straight away. Don’t try and hide it from me. Don’t try and deal with it yourself. I accept that in the future your addiction is going to become an issue. That’s the nature of addiction and it will always be part of our relationship. It’s a daily presence for you which means it’s a daily presence for me. I accept that. What I can’t accept is any dishonesty when it comes to your gambling. Just the truth, that’s all.”

“I promise,” Emma said at once, hands grasping for Regina’s. “The truth. I’ll always tell you the truth, whatever happens. However I feel, whenever I get tempted, I’ll come to you.”

Regina couldn’t help but lean in and press a firm kiss to Emma’s lips. She hadn’t forgotten that their affection was being streamed, or zoomed, directly into the office of their new relationship therapist but she didn’t care. In that moment, she needed to tell Emma how she felt, to reassure her that she was committed. Emma kissed her back, showering the brunette with the same promises. 

There was another moment of silence after the kiss ended before Doctor Hopper made his presence known. “Your communication skills are strong already, ladies,” Archie said, pushing his glasses up his nose slightly. “That’s a great start. Communication is key for all relationships but when there are issues of addiction, they’re even more important. Emma, it sounds to me like Regina is someone who is ready and willing to deal with any future gambling problems and that’s an excellent sign. And Regina, it sounds like you’re going into this with your eyes open, which again is very reassuring to me.”

“I’ve done a lot of research,” Regina admitted. “When Emma and I first met I didn’t know anything about gambling addictions, so I spent time reading and researching because I knew how I felt about Emma and wanted to be aware of what I was getting involved in. Then when Emma slipped not long after our first anniversary, I guess I learned on the job, as it were. I watched her deal with those hard few months of her recovery and tried to be part of her support network.”

“You were my support network,” Emma said, jumping in. “You were amazing back then, Regina, and I’m sure you will be again if I never do need you. And before you say anything, I know you would have been amazing last year if I’d told you then. But just so you know, I didn’t choose not to tell you based on my experience of your support in the past.”

The olive-skinned hand which was still clasped in Emma’s paler one squeezed lightly. “Thank you for saying that. I’m glad I was able to help.”

“And Emma, can you tell me a little bit about your gambling habits? Just for context and so we can work together to help you avoid temptation in the future.”

Emma shrugged. “Anything really. I’ll put bets on most sports. Football, basketball, horse racing. I used to dabble in poker but haven’t played for years because I was never good enough. Being a bad poker player isn’t luck, it’s just lack of skill and it’s pointless to keep sitting at the table. I play blackjack, sometimes. Casinos are a nightmare. Roulette, slot machines, you know? Just mindless. Then the fuckers started making apps too. Excuse my language but it’s so irresponsible. I’ve but a blocker on my cell so I can’t download them, but I think they’re really dangerous. It makes it possible to gamble from anywhere and without proper monitoring.”

“And are there any casinos or betting shops near where you live?”

“In town,” Emma nodded. “The betting shops have all been told not to let me place a bet. I went to each of them with my sponsor the first week I was back in GA. But, I mean, not that I want to test this or anything, I’m not sure how effective that would be in reality. The staff turnover in those places probably means they wouldn’t actually take any notice of who it is who’s placing the bet. But we walked around and went to each one and handed over my picture. Casinos too. But again, I don’t know if I’d actually be refused entry. Not that I want to try, I’m just saying.”

“It’s something, at least,” Regina offered. “It’s a good first step, right Doctor Hopper?”

“Exactly, Regina. You’ve done all the right things, Emma. You should be really proud of yourself for doing everything you’ve done so far. You’ve put as many barriers as possible in front of yourself and they alone should act as deterrents if you start to feel like you want to gamble. Is there a particular time of day that you feel more vulnerable to your addiction?”

Emma thought for a moment before answering. “It depends. If I’ve not slept well the night before, it’s often the first thing I think about when I wake up. Not the desire to place a bet, just the fact that I’m a gambling addict. It’s an ever-present awareness, I suppose. But in terms of when I’m most likely to want to walk into a casino or betting shop … I dunno. Afternoons? On the way back from a shit day at the office? That’s what happened last summer. I was feeling exhausted after a long week and I passed one of the betting shops on the way home. I don’t remember even walking inside, to be honest. The next thing I knew I was holding a little scrap of paper, looking up at the screen, whispering words of encouragement to a horse which was falling behind on the home stretch. And then I was back out on the sidewalk. It was still hot even though it was after seven in the evening by then. I was late home for dinner, I remember that. I told Regina I had got caught up at the office and used the same excuse the day after when I went to the casino. After that I got smarter, went on my lunchbreaks so Regina didn’t catch on. But it started after work, so I guess that’s when I’m most vulnerable.”

“That was when you slipped fifteen years ago too, right?” Regina reminded her.

“Yeah,” Emma nodded. “Again, another shit day. I’d been fired, in fact. Felt hopeless and figured I had nothing to lose. But that wasn’t the case this time. I’d had a bad day but I still had a job and I knew I’d turn everything around the next day. I guess I was just weak.”

“Addiction isn’t a weakness, Emma,” Doctor Hopper reminded her gently. “It’s a disease. It’s compulsive. It’s not your fault and you shouldn’t blame yourself. Every day you don’t gamble, is a tremendous display of strength but that doesn’t mean that the act of gambling is to fail and to show weakness. I’d like to help you reframe the way you think about addiction in some future sessions and to encourage you to think of yourself as more in control not only of the addiction but also of the future.”

Again, the fingers intertwined with hers squeezed lightly, confirming Regina’s support. Emma gazed down at their hands which were resting in her lap for a moment before nodding her commitment. “Yes, thank you, Doctor Hopper. That sounds good.”

“And I’d also like to work with the two of you on rebuilding the trust which I can see you once shared and that I know you want to experience again. It goes both ways, by the way. Regina, I think we can work together to help you trust that Emma will be open and honest in the future about anything concerning her gambling as well as your relationship more broadly. And Emma, I’d like to work on your capacity to trust that Regina is willing and able to be your support system, as and when you need her. How does that sound?”

Both women nodded, smiling at one another. “Yes, that sounds very helpful,” Regina said to the camera. “This has been very useful, Doctor Hopper. Thank you so much for your time.”

“Not a problem. I’m sorry we couldn’t meet in person. Virtual therapy sessions are useful, but they are a little different than meeting in the flesh. If you’d like to make another appointment at my office, you can call my receptionist and she can schedule you in. I won’t force you to commit now as I think it’s advisable for you to talk to each other rather than feeling forced to book another session while staring at me. It has to feel like the right fit for both of you so feel free to take some time to discuss this session privately before getting back in touch with me. Or not, if either or both of you decide that this dynamic didn’t work. Don’t worry, I won’t take it personally.”

Both women vehemently shook their heads and Archie chuckled. He got the feeling it had gone well but he felt it was important to allow prospective patients the opportunity to opt out rather than piling on the pressure and locking them into long term contracts. That just wasn’t how he worked. 

“Great, well, that just about wraps us up for this session. It was lovely to meet you both. If you do indeed want to continue to see me, I’d very much look forward to seeing you again.”

“Thank you, Doctor Hopper,” Regina said.

“Yes, thank you. This has been, well,” Emma glanced at Regina, “a big step for us and it means a lot.”

“You’re most welcome. Have a lovely weekend.”

There was a pause as the man leaned forwards, squinting slightly at his screen and then the meeting ended. Regina and Emma looked at the popup which had appeared, announcing the end of the call, for a moment before Regina reached out to close the laptop lid. “Well,” she said.

“Well,” Emma echoed, stretching her arms up above her head. “What did you think?”

“I thought he was great,” Regina replied. “It sounded to me as if he knows what he’s talking about when it comes to addiction. What about you?”

“He won me over the moment he said he wasn’t going to tell us to stop having sex,” Emma grinned. 

Regina rolled her eyes. “Emma, come on. What did you think of him? The addiction stuff, did it resonate? Is he someone you think could help you?”

“Yes,” Emma nodded, sobering now and turning to face Regina. “Yeah, a lot of what he said really chimed with me. He gets it, I think. He gets me. And I know a lot of our future sessions are going to be talking about my gambling so that’s really important. I’m happy to keep seeing him, if you are.”

“I am,” Regina replied. “But I do think we’re going to have to tell Henry.”

“I already did,” Emma reminded her. 

“I know but I think we need to tell him that this is an ongoing thing. I was thinking about it and perhaps he should be told where we’re at.” Emma’s eyes blew wide at once and Regina sensed her fear. “I don’t mean we have to tell him about the gambling. We’re taking that conversation at your pace, as I promised. But if we’re both serious about working on our issues and trying to rebuild our marriage, I think Henry can know that. I think he has a right to know that. If he’s as invested as you say in our relationship, keeping him in the dark is unfair.”

“Ok,” Emma agreed. “Shall we tell him over dinner?”

“Yes, why not? Do you want to come and help me cook or do you want to go back and play video games?”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “When you say it like that, I sound like your second child.”

Rather than answering, Regina just gazed at the blonde with an inscrutable expression. Emma huffed. 

“Rude.”

Regina chuckled, unable to help herself. “My dear, you are my second child, except I get to do this.” She stepped forwards, pressing herself against Emma and kissing her soundly. At once, Emma’s arms wrapped around her, pulling the shorter woman even closer as the kiss softened but deepened at the same time. 

“Yeah, ok, not your child,” Emma said as the kiss ended, green eyes hooded with desire.

“No, you’re not. You’re my wife, Emma. Last night and today reminded me of that, reminded me of what we share. We can make this work, Emma. I want to make this work. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that the next time, I mean, if there is a next time, that you feel able to come to me before you gamble, or before it gets out of hand.”

“I will,” Emma promised. “Before I gamble, I promise. I can’t lose you again, Regina. And I know we have a long way to go but I feel positive too. I want you back, Regina. I want our life back. I know it won’t be the same but maybe we can build something better, stronger. Whatever it is, however our future looks, I need it to include us, together. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Regina replied. “Come on, you can do the vegetable chopping if you promise not to slice your finger off.”

“I won’t!” Emma grinned.

Regina raised an eyebrow. “My dear, you do have form.”

“No, I don’t.”

The brunette reached for Emma’s left hand, searching her index finger for the faint white line. Faced with proof of her own clumsiness, Emma put on a sheepish expression. 

“Ok, I’ll be careful,” she promised. 

“Come on then,” Regina said, leading the way from her office and into the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next up, conversations with Henry and the ladies’ final evening before the end of their lockdown.


	20. Cooking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Lockdown in the UK is easing, just as I get ready (well, slowly) to bring our ladies out of their shelter in place. I know in many areas around the world Covid case are rising. Whatever your local government advice is, don’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t feel safe doing. If it feels risky, stay home. If you’re not ready for that reunion, tell your friends. Anxiety levels are understandably high – put yourself and your loved ones first.

The rhythms of domestic life which make up a marriage become ingrained, entrenched over time. Habits, movements, actions become expected and predictable, an anticipated part of the everyday experience of living with another person. Regina had forgotten what it was like to cook alongside Emma, after five months of the woman not being in the house. While it felt unfamiliar at first to see the blonde stood by the counter, right foot tucked behind left calf, chopping the carrots with slow but deliberate movements, barely a few minutes passed before it seemed as if Emma had never left. 

“Can you pass me the garlic chopping board please?” Regina asked, as she stirred the softening onions in a pan.

Emma reached to where the allocated board lived, propped up beside the knife block and passed it over, followed by the knife she knew the woman liked best to use to cut garlic. 

“Thanks,” Regina smiled. 

“You’re welcome,” Emma replied. “Have I done enough carrots or do you want more?”

Peering at the mound of neatly sliced orange coins, Regina shrugged. “One more? It’s impossible to cook too much food with you and Henry in the house.”

Emma feigned outrage but didn’t argue. Both she and her son had insatiable appetites. Henry’s came from being almost a teenage boy. Hers came from her time in the foster system, where you ate fast or you didn’t eat. With no money as a young adult, that developed into eating as much as possible whenever she could, something she’d never quite shaken as an adult with a steady job and paycheque. It also meant she felt had to go to the gym often to keep in good shape. 

The meal came together slowly, the smells enticing Henry to stick his head around the door and ask when it would be ready. If he was surprised to see his blond mother helping his brunette mother, he didn’t say anything and instead poured himself to a large glass of juice before disappearing again. 

“Is our son ever going to show an interest in the kitchen?” Emma asked as she slowly stirred the sauce over a low heat, just as Regina had instructed her. 

“He used to help me with baking cakes and cookies when he was young but then he seemed to find it boring. I’m sure he’ll come back to it eventually. When he heads to college, he’ll have to at least learn how to cook pasta.”

“It just feels like a shame, sometimes,” Emma shrugged. “I know I’m not the best cook, but I didn’t have anyone to teach me and I feel that excuses my, well, limited skills. Henry has you, who could have taught him so many delicious meals. He’s been brought up by the American equivalent of Mary Berry and -”

“Wow, hold up,” Regina interrupted. “I think Mary Berry is a genius, you know that. But she’s in her eighties, Emma. Can’t I be the American equivalent of Nigella Lawson?”

“Oh, yeah, ok,” Emma grinned, abandoning the sauce and crossing the kitchen to slide her arms around Regina’s waist, kissing the back of her neck. “You can be American Nigella if you want. Can you talk the way she does so that literally everything she says sounds filthy?”

Regina rolled her eyes at the request but couldn’t deny that the feel of Emma’s solid warmth pressed against her back was distracting her from her task of preparing some strawberries for dessert.

“You mean,” she began, dropping her voice lower than usual, “talking about how these firm, ripe strawberries are dripping all over my fingers and how I’m going to sprinkle a delicious dusting of caster sugar on top of them to draw out their juices and leave an unctuous soup of sweetness at the bottom of the bowl, perfect for dribbling over a naughty scoop of vanilla ice cream.”

Behind her, Emma groaned, tightening her arms around Regina’s waist and pressing hot kisses to the woman’s neck, lips trailing up towards the lobe of her ear. “You’re so fucking hot!” Emma whispered, tongue flicking the soft skin and making Regina’s body tingle. 

“Emma, please stir the sauce,” Regina said in her usual voice as she registered that the blonde was being neglectful in her kitchen duties. It wouldn’t be the first time Emma had offered to help and then caused a culinary mishap which had led to take out being ordered

Reluctantly, Emma unwound herself from Regina’s body, placing a final kiss to the woman’s cheek before returning to the sauce and stirring quickly to dissipate any lumps which had formed during her few minutes of distraction.

It was less than half an hour later that Regina was calling into the hallway for Henry to wash his hands as Emma carried the steaming dish over to the dining table. They’d managed the rest of the meal prep without any incidents of unbridled lust, instead acting as they had always done together. Emma was almost painfully aware that she was experiencing simultaneously what she had lost as well as what she could regain if only their therapy sessions went well. It was a confusing mix of emotions and she wasn’t quite sure where her head was at. While on the one hand she was very much enjoying the way she and Regina were acting with one another, she had to admit it was confusing. 

Sex confuses things. 

In many ways, she and Regina were acting as they had in the early days of their relationship, sparks of arousal and excitement flying everywhere. Yet, on the other hand, Emma could never shake the awareness that this might not work. She knew she wanted it to work. She knew Regina wanted it to work. Everything they had done so far was moving them in the right direction. But the last twenty-four hours had seen colossal changes in their relationship and Emma couldn’t help but wonder when her luck would run out. 

Knowing she had to push that fear aside for now, Emma smiled at her son who had just loped into the room and sat down in his seat. She poured him more juice and then topped up Regina’s wine glass before strolling to the fridge and grabbing a second beer for herself. Emma’s favourite part about preparing a meal was that somehow it was acceptable to have a drink while you did so. It made the cooking process a little more bearable when she was alone. And she made sure to stop after three beers as a maximum each night; because drinking alone was never a good habit. 

“So, are you moving back in?”

Emma froze, halfway into her chair, and looked straight at her son whose steady hazel eyes were locked on her own. 

“Um, what?” she asked, finishing her descent as she took her seat and reached for her beer. 

“You and Mom,” Henry clarified. “You’re getting on better, right? The therapy worked?”

Well we were planning to tell him, both women communicated silently to one another with a look as the brunette approached the table with the last of the side dishes.

“We’ve only had one session so far, Henry,” Regina explained as she started to portion out the dinner. “But it went well and we’re going to book in for another one. Emma won’t be moving back in just yet, but we are talking about that and we’re going to work through the problems we have in our marriage.”

“So, you’re still mad at Emma?” Henry asked the brunette accusatorially.

“Henry, that’s no way to speak to your mother,” Emma snapped. “She’s not mad at me but she would have every right to be if she were. Your mom isn’t the reason I’m not living at home at the moment and I don’t want you ever suggesting that it’s her fault. It’s mine and -”

Emma stopped as she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up at Regina who was smiling softly down at her. “Emma, it’s ok. Henry has a right to ask.”

“Yes, but he was blaming you when it was me who, well, messed up,” Emma concluded.

“Look, Henry,” Regina said as she placed her son’s food in front of him. “Your ma is right. She was the one who made a mistake and her actions did cause our separation. But that is something that she and I are working on with our new therapist and we’re going to both work really hard to deal with what happened and overcome in. Marriage is hard and sometimes people make mistakes. I’m not going to deny that Emma is the reason that she’s not living here right now and that it was my choice to ask her to leave this house. But we’re both now trying to move past that. I want Emma to come back home. And Emma wants to come back home.”

Henry’s face lit up at that. “Really? So you are moving back in?” He directed this question at Emma.

“Not yet,” Emma replied. “But it’s something we both want, me and your mom, and that’s big progress. We can’t make any promises about the future, Henry, because neither of us knows how the therapy is going to work out. But we can promise that we’re both going to work hard on our problems and try to overcome them with the help of therapy.”

“Yes, exactly,” Regina nodded, reaching over to give Emma her food and then moving to squeeze her hand. Henry’s eyebrows raised at the action. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a display of physical affection between his two mothers. When he was younger, their lovey-dovey kissy stuff made him want to be sick but now he realised he missed it. “You mom and I are in a great place, Henry. Better than we’ve been in a long time. Emma’s right, we can’t promise you a happy ending for our marriage, but we promise we want a happy ending for us.”

“Isn’t that enough?” Henry asked. “If Mom wants to be with Ma and Ma wants to be with Mom, I don’t see why you need to try to get your happy ending. That is the happy ending. You’ve already made it. Why do you need to see a therapist if you’re already happy?”

Because it was obvious to the boy that his mothers were happy. It was practically radiating off them, now he came to think about it. All day, the two of them exchanged dopey looks just like in the old days when they all lived together. If what they shared wasn’t a happy ending, Henry knew there was no hope for the rest of the world. It didn’t make sense. If they both wanted to be together, if they wanted to be happy together, why couldn’t they just … be?

“We just need to do a bit more talking,” Regina offered. “I want to be with your ma and she wants to be with me. We’re moving in the right direction, Henry, but we can’t wave a magic wand and fix all that’s happened. It’s going to take a bit of time but we’re putting in the work and we promise to keep talking with you about it too, if that’s what you want.”

“How much time?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said it was going to take time,” Henry reminded his mother. “How long? A week? A month? Will Emma have moved back in by Christmas?”

“We can’t put a timeframe on this, Henry,” Emma said sadly. “We don’t want to rush it. But we’ll know when it feels right. That’s all we can tell you. Is that ok?”

Henry looked between his mothers for a moment, wondering whether they were really telling him the truth or whether there was something they were keeping from him. Well, he knew there was. Whatever Emma had done. The big bad thing the blonde woman had done to warrant the beginning of the end of a marriage, of a life together. But whatever the big bad thing was, it seemed to be forgivable, judging by the events of the past couple of days. That gave Henry hope, even if he did rather want to know what his ma had done.

“Ok,” he said eventually. “But I do need you to make me a promise.”

“Anything,” his mothers said together. 

“When this is sorted out, one way or another, will you tell me the truth? Will you tell me what really happened?”

He watched as Regina looked to Emma, conceding the right to answer to the blonde. For a moment, green eyes darted around the table, avoiding looking at their son. But eventually the blonde raised her head. 

“I promise,” she nodded. “One day, I’ll tell you everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: oh, and search for “Nigella Lawson talking dirty” in YouTube!


	21. Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is very much NSFW. Or for shared home offices/work spaces, if you’re working from home!

Leaning against the doorframe, Emma watched as Regina rubbed moisturiser into her hands. She smiled softly at the familiar habit, one which always made their marital bedroom smell faintly of vanilla. Emma had missed that smell. She didn’t move until Regina looked up and spotted her, cocking her head to one side in question at why the blonde was, let’s face it, staring at her. 

“Are you ok?” she asked, hands now folded in her lap above the duvet which was draped over her legs. 

Emma nodded and switched off the light to the en suite before making her way towards the bed. “It’s just nice to be back here,” she said as she shucked off her jeans and tossed them haphazardly onto the chaise lounge. “I mean, I know I’m going back to my apartment tomorrow but these past two nights have been … special.”

Reaching over, Regina pulled back the duvet on Emma’s side of the bed, inviting her wife to slide in against the cool sheets. “I know, it’s been unexpected but most enjoyable,” Regina said, rolling onto her side as soon as Emma was lying down, hand reaching out to splay across the younger woman’s stomach. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I could stay,” Emma offered at once. 

The statement, although Regina knew the blonde wasn’t really serious, given their earlier conversations, still made her hesitate. “Emma, we’ve talked about this.”

“No, I know. It’s the right thing to do. I’ll go back to my apartment tomorrow, don’t worry. I’m not going to become a squatter in my own house, if that’s even legally possible. What I mean,” Emma sighed, realising she was rambling, “is that I’m not trying to talk you into allowing me to move back in here. The timing isn’t right, and until it is, I’m happy to have these two nights to sustain me.”

“Sustain you, huh? In what way?”

Emma grinned as she watched her wife’s face. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t expecting the two of them to have sex that night but the unadulterated desire in Regina’s eyes, the way she invited Emma to steam their conversation up, reminded her of the passion they shared. 

“Well, I do get very lonely in that apartment without anyone to entertain me,” Emma said, reaching down to lace her fingers with Regina’s where they still lay on top of the thin cotton tank top. “And there’s not much to do in the evenings so sometimes I go to bed early.”

“And what do you do in your bed, Emma?”

The way the woman said her name should be illegal, Emma thought as she closed her eyes, heartrate quickening. How was it possible to be turned on by two syllables she’d heard every day of her life? Regina’s sexy tones were pure magic, Emma had decided long ago. 

“I might read for a bit,” Emma said, the words sticking slightly in her throat.

“And what do you read, Emma? Tipping the Velvet?”

“I’ve read that in the past, as you well know, but I don’t usually read to, well, get off.”

“No? So what do you do to, ahem, ‘get off’, as you so eloquently put it?”

“Well,” Emma said, swallowing hard. Regina’s eyes moved to the bob in Emma’s throat, resisting the urge to lick over the smooth skin as it rippled at the action. “I think about us. You and me and the times we’ve been together. I use the memories of us and think about how it felt and how you felt and what I did to you and what you did to me. And then,” at that, Emma’s grip on Regina’s fingers tightened as she started to move their hands together down to the top of her underwear, “I use my fingers, or my vibrator if I’m tired, to make myself come. I try to imagine it’s you,” she continued, wriggling their joined hands underneath the silk of her panties now, eyes fixed on Regina’s black orbs, “touching me like you used to. I close my eyes and pretend it’s your fingers, not mine.”

At those final words, Emma untangled her own fingers and withdrew them, leaving Regina cupping her core. The woman didn’t need any more instructions. She curled her fingers, pressing the pads lightly into the wetness which was already accumulating at Emma’s entrance. 

“Like this?” Regina asked, lips hovering millimetres from Emma’s ear.

The blonde’s eyes fluttered closed as the pleasure tingled through her body. “Yes,” she whispered. “Like that.”

“Then what do you imagine I do to you?” Regina murmured, shifting herself so she was pressed close against Emma’s side.

Emma let out a little whimper. “I imagine your fingers on my clit,” she gasped as Regina anticipated her words and did exactly as Emma suggested, pressing her index finger just above Emma’s sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Like this?” Regina asked, sliding her fingertip down slightly, circling Emma’s clit twice and then releasing some of the pressure, hovering instead agonisingly close to the throbbing pearl. 

“Like that, but I imagine you’re pressing harder,” Emma whispered, prompting Regina to return her fingers, pressing with more force this time and establishing a rhythm. Emma let out a moan. Regina smirked and allowed the blonde a moment of enjoyment before making her describe what Regina should do next. 

Talking to one another during sex had not been something the women had always done. While they had been open and honest with one another from the beginning, it took a while for them to become comfortable enough to speak about what they liked and didn’t like in bed. Over time, however, as they became more attuned not only to their own bodies but each other’s bodies, they began to speak more freely, asking for what they wanted, asking for feedback when they tried something new. This communication was key to their sex life remaining not only fresh and engaging but also always pleasurable for both of them. 

Hearing Emma describe how she had masturbated to memories of their sexual exploits during their time apart had set Regina’s core on fire. In truth, since the separation, she had brought herself to climax at the thought of Emma a few times too. The most recent example being the first night Emma had been under their family roof again, just a few days earlier. But in the five months before that, Regina had only masturbated to thoughts of Emma a handful of times, and only after she’d had a little too much to drink. Because, until recently, her emotions towards Emma had been of betrayal and sadness. Of course, the love had still been there, and the attraction had never waned. Yet it had taken these past few days for Regina to be reminded of how much their relationship, sex and otherwise, had meant to her. 

So to know that for months, while she had been falling asleep alone and emotionally drained, Emma had been lying across town, fingers rubbing furiously against her core at the thought of Regina, made the brunette both aroused and a little sad. But in that moment, with her fingers circling Emma’s core, her own desire outweighed her sadness. 

“And after I’ve pressed harder, what next? Do I back off, do I press my fingers inside you? What do I do next, Emma?”

There’s her name said again in those sultry tones, the blonde thought, her hips rocking up towards Regina’s fingers who were now relentless in their rhythm. 

“I … I’d usually just rub myself like this. Pressing on my clit. I mean, that’s the easiest way for me to come by myself,” Emma admitted, opening her eyes and turning to look at Regina. 

Those green orbs were almost eclipsed by circles of liquid black arousal. Regina kissed her at once, rolling on top of the blonde and straddling the woman’s waist with her knees, never stopping the movement of her fingers, despite the now somewhat awkward angle.

“Well, I’m here now,” Regina said against Emma’s lips. “So, in your fantasies or in your memories of our times together, what is it that I do that makes you come hardest?”

Emma’s eyes closed briefly as she tried to control herself. It would be so easy, in that moment, with Regina’s fingers working against her core, to come there and then. And it would have been amazing. But she also knew this night might be the last time the two of them would be together for a while. That meant it needed to a night to remember. 

“I … I -”

The words dissolved on her tongue as Regina’s fingers sped up. The brunette grinned salaciously at the power of her actions. “Come on, Emma. Tell me what you want. Do you want me to fuck you with one of our strap-ons?” The blonde shook her head. “Do you want my fingers inside you?” Again, the blonde’s head moved side to side. “Do you want my mouth?”

“Yes,” Emma gasped, eyes now locked with Regina. “Yes, your mouth.”

Regina smiled wider and at once began to move down the bed but a hand on her elbow stopped her, pulling her back up. “What?” she asked.

“Lie down,” Emma said, her voice suddenly low and gravelly. “I want to ride your mouth.”

There was a moment of hesitation as Regina’s heart seemed to skip a beat before the brunette threw herself back to her side of the bed, grabbing the pillow as she moved and hurling it across the room. Once lying down, she wriggled away from the headboard so Emma’s knees would have room. The blonde was already getting into position, kneeling up beside the woman who was now reaching for her. 

“Come here,” Regina gasped, hand curled around Emma’s muscular thigh, encouraging the younger woman to straddle her. 

“Hang on,” Emma said, fumbling off her underwear. Neither woman wanted to deal with a barrier between their bodies nor having an awkward strip of material bunched to one side of Emma’s core. Unfettered access was the name of the game. 

“Take your top off too,” Regina added, already imagining the sight of Emma’s body stretched out above her own.

Emma complied, stripping off her top and bra before shifting herself into position, taking care not to place her knees on any of Regina’s hair which was spread across the sheet. As soon as her legs were either side of her head, Regina’s arms came up and wrapped around those strong thighs, reinforcing how much she wanted Emma. Her fingers stroked lightly across the tender skin of the inside of Emma’s thighs for a moment before she lifted her head up and pressed a kiss to the pink bud of nerves. 

“Come closer,” she said, lowering her head back to the mattress and encouraging Emma to spread her legs a little wider, bringing her core towards Regina’s mouth. 

Emma was always cautious in this position when they began. While she knew Regina would tell her if she was putting too much pressure on her mouth, being too rough or preventing the woman from breathing easily, she was nervous at first that she might get carried away or cause Regina discomfort or even pain. Because this was a position which drove Emma wild. There was something about the way she was able to rock herself at her pace and pressure against her wife’s mouth that set Emma’s core in fire. To begin with, however, she liked it if Regina set the pace. 

And Regina knew this, after years of pleasuring the blonde. So as soon as Emma’s core was lowered lightly against her lips, she set to work. The flat of her tongue dragged slowly from Emma’s centre up through her labia and over her clit. Regina repeated this several times, spreading the wetness around and adding her own saliva to the mix. She liked the raw messiness which this position always dissolved into and this initial movement was just the start. She licked again, this time drawing one of Emma’s labia into her mouth, twirling her tongue around it. Then the other side. 

Above her, Emma’s hands reached out to grasp their headboard. Regina looked up that taut body above her and allowed a moan to vibrate through the labia trapped between her lips. Emma’s eyes closed at the sensation. Untangling one of her arms, Regina reached up her wife’s body, cupping her right breast and tweaking the nipple which was already erect. 

“You’re so beautiful,” she said, briefly detaching her mouth from Emma’s core to pay the compliment. 

But before Emma’s eyes had opened, the woman’s tongue was back to work, now flicking across Emma’s clit. The blonde moaned and spread her thighs a little wider, lowering herself down a little and increasing the pressure slightly against Regina’s mouth. And consequently against her own core. 

Regina would have smirked at the action but her lips were otherwise engaged. She began to focus her effort on Emma’s clit, tongue swishing backwards and forwards, lips occasionally sucking it into the warmth of her mouth but mostly she allowed her tongue to do the work. With some assistance from Emma’s hips which had started little micro-rocking movements. 

This was a practised position and one which both women loved. Regina allowed Emma to set the pace now, and simply kept her tongue firm and pressed against the blonde’s core. Within moments, Emma’s hips became more confident, taking what they needed as the heat inside her core spiralled outwards, seeping into every inch of her body. 

“Fuck,” Emma muttered, fingers curled around the headboard as she steadied herself but also increased her speed. The slickness between her body and Regina’s mouth made it easy to slide her core over the brunette’s tongue, feeling the slippery muscle pressing insistently against her clit. She shifted her hips wider still, increasing that pressure in a way which wasn’t possible in any other position. 

A quick glance down allowed Emma to check in on how Regina was doing. Dark brown eyes locked with her own, wide and full of lust as the woman watched Emma’s body, gyrating against her face. Emma groaned out her wife’s name, arousal reaching the point of pain as Regina’s fingertips tensed on her thighs, reassuring her that she was not only fine but more than happy with how things were progressing. 

Emma allowed her hips to rock harder, faster, pressing down against Regina’s tongue. Hot and wet, she felt herself sliding backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, her clit relentlessly stimulated by the mouth of the woman she loved. Her orgasm grew inside her, the pleasure building and building and building until it crested. 

She cried out, her palm slamming into the mattress beside Regina’s head as she fell forwards, the rhythm of her hips now haphazard and messy, her body jerking and twitching as it chased the wave of orgasmic bliss which thrummed through her veins. She kept moving as long as she could and then felt her thighs begin to tremble. She knew she couldn’t hold herself up any more and with her waning energy, managed to lurch to the side, flopping backwards on the bed so her head ended up by Regina’s knees, anything to avoid suffocating the woman who’d just given her such pleasure.

Regina appeared in her line of vision seconds later, the lower half of her face shimmering with Emma’s pleasure. Without words, the blonde gathered the woman into her, hugging her close and burying her face in the damp tendrils of hair just beneath Regina’s earlobe. 

“I love you so much,” Emma panted, arms wrapped around Regina’s back. 

“I love you too,” Regina replied, hugging Emma even tighter.

“We can work it all out, right?” Emma said, face still hidden. “Our problems, our relationship. We can fix it, right?”

“I hope so,” Regina murmured. “I want to.”

“I want to, too,” Emma replied, pulling away at last and reaching up to wipe her come from Regina’s lips and chin with the pad of her thumb. “I’m not giving up on us. Ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Come on, don’t be shy! Next week’s chapter will be NSFW too. Because I’ve got to give these ladies something to remember before they go their separate ways.


	22. Worship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is all sex. NSFW.

Regina lay back down on top of Emma, unable to bear the intensity of their eye contact. She pressed her face into Emma’s neck, brushing her lips against the warm, smooth skin. Strong arms encircled her once more, bringing her body even closer, despite the fact that she must be squashing Emma. But the blonde didn’t care. She loved the feeling of her wife’s body on top of her, always had. Tonight, however, there was the added awareness that neither woman knew when they’d be sharing a bed together again. Or, in theory, if.

If the therapy didn’t work out, if something came up which made either one of them or both women realise that permanent reconciliation wasn’t possible, that was the end. The couple knew they’d become complacent in the last two days, been too eager to accept the resurgence of their physical relationship despite the lingering knowledge that it might all fall apart. Again. 

But it didn’t feel as if that was an option in moments like this, Emma thought to herself, fingers drifting up and down Regina’s spine. That’s why it felt so good. That and the mind-blowing orgasms. Beyond the great sex, Emma knew that the rush of hormones and emotions which flooded her body when she and Regina were intimate not only produced heady feelings of pleasure but also blocked out those other worries and problems.

With Regina’s naked body covering her own, Emma didn’t have to think about the fact that they were in therapy, that her gambling addiction had torn her family apart, that Regina worried about whether Emma trusted her and whether she could trust Emma, that both women feared Emma might gamble again. When all they could feel was each other; lips, tongue, fingers, breath, gasp, crest; there was no space to feel anything else. Doubt, fear, regret, guilt. 

“I think I owe you an orgasm,” Emma murmured as the pressure of Regina’s body finally began to make her body protest slightly. 

“I think you do,” Regina agreed, rolling off the blonde and stretching her arms above her head. 

Emma looked appreciatively at the lithe body pulled taught beside her. She reached over and placed her palm on Regina’s stomach, feeling the muscles tense. She grinned. Regina was a little ticklish. But she wasn’t looking to make her wife laugh in that moment. True, their sex had often included laughter and jokes. It was just another way to communicate, after all, and there was something slightly ridiculous about sex, if you stopped to think about it. There had been plenty of times when the mood changed and giggles erupted between them. And then they’d fade, as that happiness was replaced with perhaps a purer form of physical pleasure. 

Laughing was the last thing on Regina’s mind in that moment when she watched Emma’s face, as the blonde in turn seemed to be drinking her in. Those green eyes slid slowly up her body, from where her fingers splayed across her olive stomach, up to the edge of her ribcage, which rose and fell as she breathed, up further to her breasts, which had always been larger than Emma’s, even during and after the younger woman’s pregnancy, and then that gaze met her own.

She smiled softly, silently asking Emma to come closer. She did. Their lips connected, a chaste kiss in stark contrast to the intensity of Emma’s earlier orgasm. Regina was setting the tone now, telling Emma what she wanted. Slow, sensual, connection. Not that Emma hadn’t felt connected to Regina as she sat astride her head. She had. There had been a deep connection. And Regina loved fiery passion too. But in that moment, at that time, given where her mind was and her attitude towards their relationship, she wanted something a little different. 

Perhaps the way in which Emma had rocked herself against Regina, the earnest, eager, almost desperate act of chasing her orgasm to its zenith symbolised how Emma felt about their relationship. She was undeniably earnest in the way in which she wanted to make up for her wrongdoing. She was eager for the therapy to work, and for their lives to go back to normal. And yet there was also a sense of desperation, and Regina knew Emma couldn’t bear to think about what her life might become if their relationship wasn’t to work out. 

Regina struggled to imagine her life without Emma in it too, in all fairness. It hadn’t been an easy decision to ask the blonde to leave and she had been devastated in the wake of their breakdown of their marriage. And now they were on a new path, the fear of ending up back there weighed heavily on Regina’s mind just as much as it weighed on Emma’s. Yet it manifested itself in a different way. Regina was desperate for them to work out but she was determined to make their future work through slow, steady and deliberate work to rebuild and solidify their relationship. 

And that was exactly how she wanted to make love to Emma that night. Or, more specifically, that was how she wanted Emma to make love to her. 

“What do you want?” Emma asked quietly, willing to do anything Regina wished. She already had an inkling of what her wife wanted. She knew how Regina loved the slow, gradual movements which eventually led to an explosion of pleasure. 

In nothing more than a whisper, Regina replied; “worship me.”

The phrase, harking back to the early days of their relationship when Emma had, in a haze of post orgasmic bliss, referred to Regina as her queen, sent a shiver down the blonde’s spine in the dusk of the bedroom that night. Instantly, she leaned down to kiss her wife, a deep, passionate promise that Emma would do exactly as she was asked.

It wasn’t long before Emma’s mouth began to wander, travelling along Regina’s jawbone, tongue teasing over the skin until it lapped briefly at her earlobe. And then Emma was moving onwards, laying a trail of kisses along the taut tendons of the brunette’s neck as Regina craned her head to one side, granting Emma more access and permitting her to pause and suckle lightly above the woman’s pulse point. 

Emma hesitated, laying her tongue flat against the skin, feeling the thud of the woman’s heartbeat directly into her own mouth. She knew it was juvenile but she yearned to leave a dark mark right here, a visible sign that Regina’s heart belonged to her. At least, Emma hoped it did. The older woman certainly held Emma’s heart tightly in her own hands. But she resisted the urge to suck blood to the surface, not only because she knew Regina disliked having to cover up hickies for work but also because Emma wasn’t sure she had the right, just yet, to mark her wife. 

So she moved on, mouth journeying down to Regina’s collarbone. Here she paused, her tongue tracing a thin line which marked where the woman had been thrown from her horse as a teenager, the bone beneath shattered and rebuilt by surgeons. Regina’s hand rested lightly on the back of Emma’s head at this point but not in an attempt to guide her. Part of the agreement when Emma set out to worship her queen was that she’d take as long as she saw fit. And somehow, the blonde always managed to set the perfect pace. 

Next she moved her lips down to the valley between Regina’s breasts. Bringing her hands up, she cupped each generous globe, thumbs massaging the underside of each before she shifted her mouth to the right, guiding the nipple to her mouth and covering the puckered areola with warm wetness. Above her, Regina let out a sigh of contentment. It was followed by a gasp as teeth scraped across the sensitive nub. 

After she’d given equal attention to the left breast, Emma continued her journey downwards, scooting her body to kneel between Regina’s spread legs. The softness of Regina’s stomach always surprised Emma. The skin there was so smooth and tender that she burrowed her face downwards, lips pressing harder, tongue licking every now and then, tasting the faintest remainder of the woman’s moisturiser, applied that morning. 

Now to the jut of Regina’s hipbones, pointing surprisingly sharply up through her skin. This was the moment when Emma’s self-control came into play. While she adored worshiping her wife, there was a part of her which wanted to stop its journey at the final destination at the first time past. But she forced herself to continue, moving her lips towards the edge of neatly trimmed pubic hair for a moment before backing away, the scent of her wife too tempting for Emma to deal with. 

Instead, she moved her mouth to the inside of Regina’s thigh, a few inches lower from where Emma was ultimately heading. And then she moved further away, kisses peppering all over the woman’s thighs, snaking backwards and forth from one to the other. When they had met, Regina had been a regular runner. While she no longer ran, her legs were still in great shape, thanks to the woman’s regular spinning classes. 

At her left knee, Emma paused again. She pulled a little further back this time, taking in the white scar, about the size of a dime but not quite circular, which marred the skin. It had happened a few years earlier, when Henry was six. They’d been on holiday in Barbados and the women had been walking along the beach one evening, Henry safely in the hotel being watched over by one of the onsite nannies they’d hired for a couple of hours. It had been a blissful, romantic stroll until Regina had stumbled forwards and sliced her knee open on a sharp shell sticking out of the white sand. The rest of the night had been spent getting the woman stitched back together in the local hospital. 

Emma kissed the healed wound and moved on. Her lips trailed down toned calves now, fingers trailing whichever one wasn’t being peppered with kisses at. At the woman’s ankles, Emma hesitated one final time. She gently turned the woman’s left foot outwards, exposing the inner arch to her gaze. And lips. The tiny inked lines were dim in the low light. Well, that and the tattoo artist had failed to mention that it wasn’t the best location because the ink would fade over time. But she could still make it out, the little flower. Her thumb brushed over it once before she pressed her lips to the image. As she did so, the matching tattoo on her own foot seemed to tingle. 

They’d laughed about how silly they’d been to get the same tattoo even the day after they had gone to the tattoo parlour. It would be a nightmare if they broke up, Regina had declared. After all, we’ve only known each other six weeks, Emma had added. But it had been one of those head over heels kind of meetings and somehow they’d found themselves in a tattooist’s chair, holding one another’s hand as the childish symbol was etched into their skin. It had been foolish, yes, but maybe their younger selves knew something their older selves were sceptical of. Maybe their younger selves believed in true love.

A final kiss to that tiny flower tattoo and Emma made her way back up, rushing now as she felt Regina’s legs move as she kissed them, widening invitingly as her lips travelled northwards. The worshipping was just about to start. 

Regina’s hands found their way back to Emma’s scalp as soon as that hot mouth enveloped her throbbing core. The brunette didn’t know what it was about the diligent way in which Emma kissed her quite literally from head to toe but there was something about the action which always got her incredibly turned on. And that night was no exception.

Her tongue moved almost lazily in its slowness, through the wetness which had gathered there. The licks were languid, determined to explore every fold, every inch, every patch of skin between Regina’s thighs. She licked again. Slower. Again, a little faster. Again, slow. Her tongue carved a path, sliding with ease over the hot, puffy skin. She settled in, laying down on her stomach, as she repeated the movement.

This was what Regina wanted. It was what she needed. Although she knew Emma could bring her to orgasm in less than a minute, something in her liked to wait. She liked to feel that heat coil as Emma’s tongue teased over her clit for a moment before retreating. The anticipation built, the suspense, the knowledge of what was to come. 

And she trusted Emma. She knew the blonde would never leave her wanting. The woman would stay between her legs, building her up then carrying her over until the woman was truly spent and utterly satiated. 

Which was exactly what happened. Eventually, Emma’s mouth switched its focus, lips wrapping around the sensitive nerve bundle and sucking softly. The fingers in Emma’s hair tightened, approving the change. But still it was slow. The suction was tender, the laving of her tongue was delicate and teasing. At least, at first. It increased, slowly but surely, ramping up the pressure, the pleasure, driving Regina closer to the inevitable. 

“Emma,” she gasped as the blonde’s tongue sped up, now flicking relentlessly over Regina’s hard clit, on a mission to show this woman just how effectively she could undo this queen. 

And Regina allowed herself to be undone. Her back arched off the bed, body taut with the thrum of pleasure. Her fingers reached for the sheets, gripping them hard in her fingers as her pelvis pressed upwards, into the hot, wet, relentless mouth of Emma. All of that pleasure, which had been so diligently gathered and caressed into a hot fiery finish washed over Regina again and again, prolonging her orgasm for over a minute.

And then her body collapsed, the muscles giving up, unable to handle any more. Emma stilled her mouth, not wanting to overstimulate. She waited where she was, wanting to catch Regina’s eye before she moved. When glassy brown orbs did indeed look down her spent body, Emma placed a final kiss to the wet core and crawled her way back up the woman. 

“You’ll always be my queen, Regina,” Emma whispered, placing the softest kiss on the night upon Regina’s lips as a tear slid down her cheek, disappearing into the pillow beneath her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I speak as someone who has a tattoo along the inner arch of my foot which has faded, despite my tattoo artist redoing bits of it three times (part of it is a quote). And as someone who has ten tattoos, I can also attest to this being the most painful part of my body I’ve ever asked someone to drag a needle across!


	23. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I just felt like for a story with the word ‘quarrel’ in the title, there hasn’t been too much quarrelling…

The morning came far too quickly for both women. While there was a mutual agreement that the little bubble in which they had been living, in which their relationship had been given a second chance, was a gift, the both knew it wouldn’t last.

It was right for Emma to move back to her tiny apartment in the centre of town. It wasn’t what either of them wanted, really, but it was the right decision. Both women knew that. Both women understood that for their future to be built on solid foundations, they had to put in the effort. And that meant giving one another time and space to work through their issues and come back together, stronger than ever.

That sentiment was all well and good but it was hard to remember through the fog of that early Saturday morning. The warm spring night had led to the covers being kicked down the bed in the dawn hours so by the time Emma found herself awake, she had wrapped herself around Regina, bare skin slightly sticky where it pressed against the naked woman. Despite this, she nuzzled herself closer.

“Are you awake?”

Emma pressed a kiss to the back of Regina’s neck in response to the whispered question. A hand came up and stroked down the arm which was looped over the brunette’s waist.

“I love waking up like this,” Regina murmured into her pillow. She’d been awake for fifteen minutes already, unwilling to move in case she disturbed the woman behind her, enjoying the feeling and sound of the blonde’s breath on the back of her neck. It was Emma’s own movement which alerted her to the fact that the blonde was conscious once more.

“Me too,” Emma said, more kisses peppering Regina’s shoulder blades. “And when I move back in, I promise you won’t wake up any other way until one of us dies.”

Regina groaned. “Way to ruin the mood by referencing the fact that we’re going to die, Emma.”

“What? It’s a fact. I tell you what, I’ll do the honour of going last so you don’t have to grieve me.”

“So, I have to die first? No way! I don’t want to die young.”

“Hey! Neither of us is dying young. Not least because we’re both almost forty. I mean, it’s young but it’s not twenty-seven, is it?”

“And neither of us are creative geniuses either but go on with your point.”

“What I meant when I said you can go first is that at the age of one hundred and twenty, when we decide we’ve got bored of reruns of Friends or whatever old biddies of our generation will watch to remind us of the good old days, you can die first then I’ll die like, two weeks later.”

“God, what a horrible two weeks Henry is going to have at the age of ninety three,” Regina said, turning around and hooking her leg over Emma’s hip. “That sounds like a pretty traumatic time for him, losing both his mothers in quick succession. But how kind of you to spare me from the emotional torture of losing you.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t explain this well, did I?”

“Nope,” Regina grinned, kissing Emma soundly on the mouth. “But I think I understand the sentiment. Basically, you’re saying you’ll never wear pjs again, right?”

Emma looked down at the non-existent gap between their bare bodies and then up at her wife, smiling widely. “Pretty much. Are you down with that?”

Instead of answering using words, Regina rolled Emma onto her back, knees straddling the woman’s waist as they kissed once more. Emma allowed her hands to roam up and down the smooth expanse of skin available to her, fingertips mapping the body she knew so well and was very happily getting reacquainted with after a few months absence. And the body which, she hoped, she’d never have to be parted from for so long again.

A door slamming somewhere else in the house caused the two women to spring apart.

“Henry’s up already?” Emma panted, before looking at the clock on Regina’s bedside table. “Shit, it’s almost nine.”

“I guess we both needed the sleep after our exercise last night,” Regina said, sitting up while still astride Emma and reaching up to run her fingers through her hair.

At the sight of the woman, stretching up so her entire body rippled before her, Emma shut her eyes and groaned. “Stop it. I have to get out of here. Henry can’t find me in here and he sure as hell shouldn’t be walking in on,” her eyes opened to see Regina now holding the position, arms tangled together at her wrists, a glint of mischievousness in her grin, “that.”

“The door’s locked,” Regina assured her after a moment, dropping her arms. “Our son has a habit of walking into this room as if it’s his; you know that. It’s one of the reasons we always wore pyjamas to sleep, remember?”

“Oh yeah, fair point. But when I move back in, and believe me, I’m going to do everything our therapist tells us is needed to make sure we do that at the right time, but when I do, can we just start locking the door because,” Emma sat herself up, wrapping her arms around Regina who now straddled her lap, “sleeping naked with you is one of my favourite things in the world.”

Their lips met in a fiery kiss which was broken almost instantly by Henry’s holler of “Mom, where’s Ma?”

“Fuck,” Emma said, releasing Regina who climbed off her and allowed the blonde to get out of bed.

After calling back to Henry that Emma was using the shower in her ensuite, a lie which would at least buy them time, she lay back against the pillows and watched Emma scrambling to get dressed. Maybe there was something to the fantasy of lesbians wearing each other’s underwear, Regina thought as Emma pulled a pair of her own satin panties up her legs. The mood was broken however when Emma caught her darkening gaze and scolded her, reminding her of why they were in a hurry and the fact that their son couldn’t know that they were sleeping together.

“In fact, he should never know that. Parents are supposed to be celibate, right?”

“Right. No, you’re right,” Regina agreed, getting out of bed herself and beginning to put on some pyjamas so she could make her son breakfast. “But also, I just told Henry you’re in the shower so maybe you should, you know, shower? Not least because of what I said but also, dear, you smell of sex.”

Regina leaned into Emma’s half-dressed form, placing a long, lingering kiss to the woman’s pronounced collarbone. Letting out a little sigh of contentment, she reached for the robe hanging on the back of the ensuite door and shrugged it on, leaving Emma to make true the lie which would keep their son from knowing that, despite their problems, his mothers were still hopelessly in love with each other.

* * *

"Ma, you're not leaving today, are you?" Henry asked as soon as Emma entered the kitchen, damp tendrils of dark blonde still dripping down and leaving damp patches on one of Regina’s old t-shirts which she’d borrowed.

“Yeah kid. I don’t live here any more, remember?”

“Coulda fooled me,” Henry said returning to his breakfast a scowl passing across his features.

Regina, who was pouring Emma a cup of coffee, raised an eyebrow. “And what do you mean by that, Henry?”

“Well, she’s been here for days -”

“Because of the shelter in place as a result of a dangerous chemical leak.” Regina reminded him, passing Emma the steaming mug.

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean she has to use your bathroom and borrow your clothes, does it?”

The bite in Henry’s tone took both women by surprise. They exchanged a glance, silently agreeing to tackle this head on.

“Um, kid, I have to borrow your mom’s clothes. I don’t have any spare clothes with me and my tank top was getting kinda ripe, you know?”

“Whatever you say,” Henry sighed.

“Henry, I don’t like this attitude,” Regina said as she sat down with her refreshed coffee and gesturing for Emma to join them. “Can you tell us what’s bothering you?”

“Why should I? It’s obvious you’ve not been telling me what’s going on.”

“What do you mean, kid?” Emma asked, taking her seat too.

“I’m not a kid, Ma!” Henry exclaimed, getting to his feet so fast that his chair clattered backwards onto the kitchen flagstones. “Can you stop treating me like I’m stupid? I know you’re together, ok? I heard you.”

Both women turned scarlet. The master bedroom was at the other end of the corridor to where Henry’s bedroom was. They had no idea that their son had ever had the misfortune to overhear their lovemaking.

“What?” Regina breathed out, not wanting to assume and make the situation worse. Maybe he just heard them talking about their therapy.

But no. “Last night,” Henry grunted. “I got up to get a drink of water and I heard Ma talking when I passed your room. Then when I was coming back upstairs, I heard, well, stuff.”

“Kid, we’re sorry. We didn’t -”

“Think I could handle it? Think I deserved to know? Yeah, sounds about right. I’m not a kid. I’m nearly twelve. I know what sex is, ok? And, God I don’t even want to think about you two, you know, doing it. But what I don’t get is why you told me less than a day ago that you weren’t back together when you clearly are. Why did you lie to me?”

“We’re not back together, Henry,” Regina said without thinking.

The boy’s face creased with confusion. “But, I heard you two in your bedroom. Why would you have sex if you weren’t back together?”

To be fair to the boy, it was a justifiable question, one they’d had to ask each other over the past couple of days.

“It’s complicated,” Emma said eventually, knowing that it would not be enough for their clearly angry son. “You’re right, Henry. I did sleep in your mom’s bed last night and, um, well, yeah, I was there. But we didn’t lie to you about the therapy. We are still talking, and I’m still going to leave this afternoon once the shelter in place order lifts. What happened last night was something that is private between your mom and me and I know you can’t understand exactly why now and that’s ok but one day, when you’re older and you’re in adult relationships of your own, I think you might begin to understand.”

“So, you’re not moving back in?” Henry asked, bending down to pick up his fallen chair and slumping dejectedly into it.

“Not yet,” Emma said shaking her head. “Like we said, we still have some work to do. Just, maybe we did a couple of things out of order.”

Regina nodded her agreement with that explanation. “We’re working on your ma coming back here, Henry. And we’re both sorry we lied to you. But I think we both thought it would be too confusing for you to be told about our physical relationship -” Henry made a mock gagging noise, “but also be told that we weren’t back together. Ma’s right. Adult relationships can get pretty messy and complicated. We thought we were protecting you.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t,” Henry said. “When I heard what I heard last night, I was super grossed out, obviously. I mean, you’re my moms.”

The boy pulled another face. Emma and Regina both smiled sheepishly at that, knowing how scarring it must have been for their son to overhear any part of their sex the night before.

“But I also started to get excited for our family to be back together. I went back to bed and started making plans for the three of us. I thought Ma wasn’t going to leave today. I woke up thinking I had my family back. It’s confusing, ok? I don’t know what’s going on between you and I get that it’s adult and please never, ever talk to me about sex again, I’m begging you. But because I found out the way I did, I guess I had a few hours of thinking everything was right again. Now, I’m finding out that my family is still broken.”

Simultaneously, both women reached for their son’s hands. Each grasping his smaller fingers in their own, they grappled to find the right words. Emma got there first.

“Kid, your family isn’t broken. Your family will never be broken. The three of us, we’ll always be your family, no matter what. I’m your ma and Regina is your mom. That’s forever. You’ll always be our son, regardless of what me and your mom are to each other. When I moved out, it was because I made a mistake. I broke something but that had nothing to do with how we feel about you. The love we feel for you is unbreakable. Our marriage is going through a rough patch but neither me nor your mom ever stopped loving you and we never will. That’s just a fact. That’s what it means to be a parent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Did you cry?


	24. Ice-Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this is being published super late! I’ve got the next week off work (bliss!) and I’m staying with a friend and have been busy all weekend. Anyway, here it is!

Emma pushed the door closed behind her and surveyed the apartment. She sighed and tossed her keys into a bowl on the two stacked cardboard boxes which doubled as a side table. Despite having been in the rented property for five months, she had resisted buying any furniture other than the bare essentials. The act of investing in items for her own apartment seemed too great a symbol of her imploding marriage.

And yet, now, it seemed, she had been right to hold off. Her marriage wasn’t imploding. In fact, it was being rebuilt. With any luck, she wouldn’t ever need to furnish her own space and, in time, she’d be back home. Home; with her family.

She moved further into the apartment. Despite the fact that she’d only been gone for a few days, the air felt stale and musty. Crossing to the kitchenette, she threw open the window and allowed some of the mercifully now fresh spring breeze inside. Turning back to the rest of the apartment, she leaned against the counter and let out another sigh.

This was not where she wanted to be. True, she understood why she was here and recognised its importance. The importance of space and time, essentially. But that didn’t mean she wanted to be there. Very base instinct within Emma had called for her to return to Regina and Henry every minute of every day since she had first seen this apartment back in November. And now she was close to going home. Close, but not there yet. Women agreed that for the sake of their future, that wasn’t an option. Still, a text couldn’t hurt, could it?

_I miss you already. E xo_

Ok, it was soppy but true, Emma decided as she put her cell phone down next to her keys. Now what?

Over the previous five months, Emma had filled most of her time with work or her son, and on evenings when Henry wasn’t around, she was slowly making her way through the entirety of Netflix. Today, however, she didn’t feel like opening up her work emails, even though she was sure there’d be items which needed to be addressed following a number of days’ absence from the office. And the television didn’t hold much draw either. No, what Emma wanted was to walk back out of the apartment, jump in her car and drive back to Mifflin Street, back to her wife, back to her son, back to her home.

Groaning, she pushed herself off the counter and made her way through to her bedroom, picking up the first book she found on her bedside table (another cardboard box) and throwing herself onto the crumpled sheets. Perhaps she could disappear into the pages of another world for a few hours and forget her own life problems.

* * *

“Mom, are you listening?”

“Yes, sorry, Henry, go on,” Regina said, looking up from her phone where she had been reading and rereading Emma’s text, a dopey grin on her face.

Her son hesitated for a moment, eyeing his mother sceptically as if he knew he didn’t have her full attention. “Right, so I’ve put this here because it makes that section move like – Mom!” he cried, exasperated, as he noticed that she was no longer following his finger as he pointed to the new Lego contraption he had started building that morning with Emma and finished shortly after the blonde woman had left.

“Sorry, Henry, give me a moment, ok?” Regina said, knowing she had to reply to Emma in order to focus on her son’s explanation. If she was honest, Lego had never been a world she had been gripped by, unlike Emma who could spend hours sprawled on the floor, using tiny colourful blocks to build myriad creations.

Henry huffed but waited obediently while his mother tapped on her cell phone.

**I miss you too. Would you like to come for dinner tomorrow night? Xo**

“Right, sorry Henry, tell me again. Why did you add that section there?”

Satisfied that his mother’s phone was no longer in her hand and that it wouldn’t distract from his important account of his latest engineering feat, Henry recommenced his blow by blow commentary, Regina now nodding in all the right places even though in her mind the brunette was already wondering whether she had the ingredients in the house to cook Emma’s favourite meal.

“Hey, can we go for a walk now?” Henry asked.

“A walk? Since when have you ever wanted to go for a walk with me?” Regina asked.

Henry shrugged. “I dunno. It’s been boring stuck in this house for days. Don’t you want to go outside?”

It was true, Regina was keen to get out into the garden and the wider world again. As she had stood on the porch, waving Emma off as the blonde reversed down the driveway, she had spotted some weeds which had sprung up in her flowerbeds during their few days without intervention. Perhaps toxic gas leaks even made them grow faster.

“Yes, I’d love to go for a walk with you, Henry. Where shall we go? The woods? Or maybe we can go to the beach.”

“Can we walk to town? We can go to the store and get candy,” Henry suggested.

“We can walk to town but I don’t think you need any more candy. There are more than enough biscuits and other treats in this house. I do need to pick up a few groceries, however,” she mused, thinking of the dinner she was planning in her head the following evening, even though Emma was yet to confirm.

Henry pouted. “But I just survived Chernobyl. I think I deserve candy.”

“Firstly, Chernobyl was a nuclear disaster, not a gas leak. And secondly, how do you know about Chernobyl?” Surely that wasn’t something that eleven year olds were taught in school these days, Regina thought.

“I read about it online when I was looking at the news of what happened here. That was really bad what happened there wasn’t it. Do you remember it, Mom?”

“Barely, I was only a child, younger than you are now. But it’s a name you hear a lot in popular culture. You’ll find references to it for the rest of your life now you know what it is. Anyway, enough about nuclear disasters. Do you want to go into town now?”

Henry nodded and jumped to his feet, heading out of his room saying that he was going to get some of his allowance to spend in the store. Regina meanwhile pushed herself up from where she had been kneeling, wincing as her knee clicked. When did she become old? Well, middle-aged, perhaps.

By the time she had gathered together her purse and slipped on her comfortable trainers, Henry had reappeared in the hallway, bouncing with excitement.

“Come on then,” Regina said, ruffling his hair for a moment before the boy ducked out down and batted her hand away.

It was strange outside, Regina decided. Quiet yet busy. They passed many people on the sidewalk as they made their way into town but there were few conversations. It was as if everyone was moving in a sort of daze; trying to take in what had happened and what they had lived through. Or maybe they were all just relieved to be away from their families after a few days of being cooped up together. Maybe the solitude and the silence was what they all needed.

Henry however was as talkative as ever, bounding a few steps ahead of Regina and chattering about a new video game he wanted to get when it was released at the end of the month. Regina was at least pleased to hear it wasn’t a shooter game. Both she and Emma were reluctant to expose him to too many violent games. As they walked, and as Henry talked, Regina checked her phone every couple of blocks, waiting for Emma’s response. Every time, her cell phone notification screen remained empty.

“Mom, can I get an ice cream?” Henry asked as he passed Any Given Sundae.

“Sure,” Regina agreed. She wasn’t keen on her son buying handfuls of candy but she herself loved ice cream. Plus, the boy had a point. Well, he hadn’t quite survived Chernobyl but they had had a traumatic few days. While they all knew they were safe if they stayed inside the house, the knowledge remained ever-present that outside those four walls floating invisibly in the air upon which their lives depended lurked a chemical which could cause them harm.

“Do you want something?” Henry asked, leading the way into the store.

“I think I’ll treat myself too, yes,” Regina smiled, peering up at the menu above the counter as the proprietor, Ingrid, emerged from the back office and smiled at the duo.

Henry busied himself pressed up against the glass, gazing down at the dizzying array of ice cream which was available. In the meantime, Regina and Ingrid made polite conversation about how the shelter in place directive had affected their lives.

“Can we get Ma an ice cream too?” Henry asked after both he and Regina had told Ingrid what they wanted.

“Excuse me?”

“Ma’s apartment is at the end of this block,” Henry reminded his other mother. “I think she rented it because of how close it is to here to be honest.”

At that, Ingrid chuckled. “Emma is one of my most regular customers,” she agreed as she scooped Henry’s chocolate ice cream into the cone.

“You want to go and see Emma?” Regina asked, wondering whether this had been her son’s plan all along. After all, he had been the one to suggest they walk the route they had taken which was slightly longer than the alternative but, in hindsight, did take them right by Emma’s temporary front door.

“Don’t you?” Henry countered.

Well, Regina couldn’t deny that she would rather like to see Emma, not least given that it had been an hour since she had extended the invitation of dinner and the blonde was yet to reply. She felt nervous. Was there a reason Emma hadn’t texted back? Had she changed her mind? Had something happened to the younger woman?

“Ok, let’s take her an ice cream. Peanut butter, right?”

“Right,” said Henry and Ingrid together.

Regina rolled her eyes at her wife’s predictability, smiling to herself as she recognised how freely the word ‘wife’ came to her mind when describing Emma. Once the ice cream had been paid for, they left the store, Henry holding both his and Emma’s while Regina carried her own honeycomb treat.

Henry all but ran down the street, his tongue taking swipes at the Oreo ice cream which shimmered in the sunshine. The closer they got to the apartment, the more apprehensive Regina felt but before she had time to question what they were doing, Henry’s index finger was stuck out from the hand which grasped Emma’s cone and started jabbing the buzzer to her apartment repeatedly.

“Henry, just once is fine,” Regina scolded gently when she caught up with her son.

But before Henry could answer, the intercom crackled and Emma asked who was there.

“It’s Henry!” the boy cried, rocking onto his toes in excitement. “And Mom. We’ve got ice cream.”

“Come on up,” Emma said, the words followed by an electronic hiss and a beeping sound which announced the door was open. Regina opened the door for her son, whose hands were too full of ice cream to manage the handle, and allowed the boy to race ahead. By the time they got to the third floor where Emma’s apartment was, the blonde was stood in the doorway.

“Hey kid,” Emma said, leaning against the door jamb. “Whatcha got there?”

“Peanut butter,” he said, thrusting the cone out to her. “Mom’s coming too,” he added as Regina appeared at the top of the staircase.

“I can see that,” Emma said as her son ducked past her and walked into the apartment. “Hi, what are you doing here?”

“Henry wanted to see you,” Regina replied, stopping in front of the woman and pausing, unsure what was appropriate.

Emma grinned and leaned forwards to place a chaste kiss to Regina’s lips. “And you didn’t?”

“I did,” Regina admitted. “I … well, I just wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me.”

At that, the blonde frowned. “Why wouldn’t I want to see you?”

“Well, oh, you’re dripping,” Regina said, pointing to the side of the ice cream which faced her where a pale brown blob of ice cream had begun to slide down. Emma twisted the cone and her tongue quickly gathered up the perilous ice cream. Regina’s eyes glazed over as she watched the action.

“Carry on,” Emma encouraged when she’d safely made sure any vulnerable ice cream had been eaten.

“Just, you didn’t text back,” Regina said lamely, feeling very adolescent even though she hadn’t even had a cell phone until she was nineteen.

“I didn’t get a text,” Emma explained. “Hang on.” She reached into the apartment and retrieved her cell. “Oh, it’s kinda dead,” she said, holding the device up and smiling sheepishly. “You know me and remembering to charge this thing. What did it say?”

Regina rolled her eyes to cover the relief she felt at the realisation that Emma wasn’t ignoring her and judging from the kiss the blonde had instigated, had not had a sudden change of heart with regard to their newfound relationship status; that of reconciling wives.

“Oh, I just was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tomorrow night,” Regina said, following Emma who was now beckoning her into the apartment.

The blonde grinned. “I’d love to, thanks. What time do you want me to come over?”

But Regina wasn’t listening. Instead she was looking around at the apartment which she was yet to see, having been unable or unwilling to bring herself to visit during the first five months of their separation. Emma fell silent, the grin sliding from her lips as she watched the woman take in where she had been living for almost half a year.

“Emma,” Regina said quietly.

“I know, it’s not great,” Emma acquiesced.

“You … you’ve not unpacked,” Regina said, pointing through the open bedroom door to the suitcase on the floor from which clothes spilled, and then over to a cardboard box beside the couch in which she could see some of Emma’s books. And then she turned to look at the small stack of boxes which were pressed up against the wall, marked in big black letters to explain what was in them. Photos. Clothes. Crockery. Glasses. (Regina had parcelled those two boxes up herself, relinquishing an old set they no longer used). More books.

Henry appeared unfazed by the state of the place as he sat on the couch, already watching TV as he licked his almost finished ice cream. It was obvious that this was how Emma’s apartment had been for the past five months.

“I couldn’t bring myself to,” Emma eventually admitted. “If I unpacked, it was like admitting our marriage was over. If everything was still in boxes, it was like I was ready to come home the moment you said I could.”

“Emma,” Regina said, turning to her wife. “You’ve been living like this for five months?”

The blonde just shrugged and looked down, suddenly very interested in her ice cream. Regina reached forwards and used the crook of her finger to tilt the woman’s face up. With reluctance, glittering green eyes met her own compassionate gaze.

“You’re coming home, Emma,” she promised. “I want you to come home. Soon, ok? You won’t be here for much longer, I promise.”

“Ok,” Emma said, her lips curling into a smile as a tear trickled down her cheek. “That’s all I want.”

“I want that too,” Regina murmured. “I want you, Emma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I mean, the shelter in place order had to lift at some point but I didn’t want our ladies to be apart for long!


	25. Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Sunday!

The dark ceiling stared back at her, an endless nothingness. From the small window, daylight was bleeding into the room, natural light chasing away the gloom of the sleepy space but fading just a few feet from the window. That was one thing she liked about this apartment; the blackout blinds. Aside from solid nights of sleep, there wasn’t much else with which she was enamoured.

When she had arrived back from the dinner with Regina and Henry the night before, an overwhelming sense of sadness had swept over her. She had half a mind to turn on her heels and return to the family home, begging Regina to let her sleep in the guest room, if not the master suite. But she’d forced herself to take a deep breath and step away from the door. Another deep breath, and she’d shucked her shoes and dumped her bag. Finally she found herself in her bathroom, ignoring the fine layer of dust which reminded her that she needed to clean. Teeth brushed, pjs on, in bed. And yet she still felt a niggling urge telling her to get back up and run back to Regina, to where she belonged.

This morning that urge remained. She wanted nothing more than to head straight back to Regina and Henry. Well, that wasn’t true. In an ideal world, she would be waking up next to Regina then they’d walking downstairs together to make their son breakfast. But that wasn’t happening. Instead, she was alone. Because of her own stupid mistake.

It crept, unbidden, into her mind. Well, a low level awareness was always there, to be fair. That was the very nature of addiction. But this wasn’t that. Emma felt a clench in her gut as the tingling desire, urge, motivation made itself known in a familiar fizzing on the edges of her brain.

“Fuck off,” Emma muttered to herself, rolling onto her side and punching the pillow beneath her head, trying to get more comfortable. The clock on the bedside told her it was only just past seven in the morning. It was Sunday. That meant she didn’t need to get up for any reason. Going back to sleep was the best option, particularly when it came to the urges she was feeling stirring deep inside her.

She closed her eyes, thinking back to the dinner the previous night, trying to distract herself from the ever-stronger niggling.

_“Mom! Emma’s here!” Henry bellowed back down the hallway as he grinned at the blonde woman standing on the porch._

_“Hi kid, how was the rest of your afternoon?” Emma asked as she followed her son inside her former home._

_“Mom made me do homework,” the boy pouted, as if it was the cruellest act he could imagine a parent committing against a child._

_“Well, you are going back to school in two days and you have missed three days of learning, so I don’t think that’s an unreasonable request, is it? Plus, you did have ice cream earlier so you can’t argue that your life is terrible, right?”_

_Henry pouted. “Yeah but I hate homework. It was geography. I hate geography.”_

_“But geography is important. You need to know where things are in the world and how communities live, right?”_

_“I can just Google that stuff,” Henry shrugged. “Like if I wanna know the capital of France, I can just ask Siri.”_

_“Henry, please tell me you already know the capital of France,” Emma sighed, suddenly worrying about how much technology was going to be relied on by Henry’s generation for what she would consider general knowledge._

_“Duh, Ma, it’s Paris, I’m not an idiot. But my point remains; Google is so much easier than learning.”_

_“I fear for the future of quiz nights the world over,” Emma lamented as she entered the kitchen to see Regina already busy getting dinner ready._

_“Me too,” Regina said over her shoulder, having overheard most of the conversation between mother and son. “Henry, can you please lay the table?”_

_The pre-teen looked as if he was about to argue but a look from Emma made him fall silent and he set about carrying out his task. Emma, meanwhile, made her way over to Regina._

_“Hi,” she said, pausing in her steps with a metre between herself and the brunette._

_Regina raised an eyebrow. “Hello, are you coming closer?” she asked, looking at the gap between the two of them. Emma glanced behind her towards Henry. “I think he knows we kiss, dear, after what he heard last night,” Regina chuckled._

_Although the memory of the fact that their son had overheard their love making the night before made Emma flush, she nevertheless stepped forwards and kissed Regina lightly. Not much would stop Emma from kissing Regina, to be fair. But they were still navigating the new boundaries of their new relationship status._

_“I brought this,” Emma said, placing a bottle of wine on the side. “It’s the one you like.”_

_“Thanks,” Regina replied, “but you didn’t need to bring anything.”_

_“It’s customary to bring something when people invite you for dinner,” Emma pointed out._

_“Yes but it’s not customary for a wife to invite their wife for dinner in their marital home. I think there’s nothing particularly normal or customary about what we’re doing. So let’s ignore the rules and just do what feels right for us, ok?”_

_“So, are you saying you don’t want the wine?” Emma asked, reaching out to pick up the bottle with a smirk._

_“No,” Regina said quickly, shooting out her hand to grip Emma’s wrist. “No, um, you can leave the wine. You’re right, I do like that one. Thank you, it was very generous.”_

_Emma grinned at the woman who was now chuckling too and couldn’t resist giving her another kiss which didn’t break until their son groaned behind them and muttered something about going to throw up._

_“Our son is charming,” Regina mused as she turned around to find the kitchen empty and the dining table laid but rather untidy._

_“Well, let’s savour this time. Before we know it, we’ll be walking surreptitiously past his bedroom door to make sure he’s not doing anything with his high school girlfriend which will make us grandparents at the age of forty.”_

_“Oh goodness, don’t say that!” Regina exclaimed, aghast. “I am so not ready to be a grandparent. Or even thinking about the fact that our son is going to start dating. Can we move on to another subject?”_

_“Sure, can I help with dinner? What are we having?”_

_“I’m almost done, thanks,” Regina replied. She had been cooking for over an hour and was just putting the final touches to the salad to accompany the main dish. “And we’re having your favourite, of course.”_

_Emma grinned widely. “Thanks! Hey, and thanks for inviting me too. I really appreciate it. The thought of sitting in that apartment on my own tonight was not appealing.”_

_“The thought of you sitting in that apartment on your own tonight was not appealing to me either. No offence but that place isn’t exactly a bachelorette pad.”_

_“I don’t think I wanted somewhere nice,” Emma admitted. “I think I wanted to punish myself and my stupidity by getting a bit of a shithole. I felt like I didn’t deserve anywhere remotely nice after what I’d done. Plus, I wanted somewhere super cheap so that I could save as much money as possible to, you know, pay back the … fund.”_

_She glanced towards the door of the kitchen, wondering whether her son was within earshot. She still wasn’t ready to confess to her son what she had done._

_“Well, I suppose that’s another factor we need to think about with regards to our relationship,” Regina said as she carried over the salad to the dining table. “Moving back in here would save you money.”_

_“I mean, you know I’d move back in here tonight if we thought it was the right thing for our relationship, but I thought we’d decided that we’re not there yet, right?”_

_“I think we need to make sure we don’t move too fast. Much as we both want to be back in the same house, if we’re both not ready, I think rushing into that is going to be a mistake.”_

_“I agree. And I’m not pushing you, I promise. When we both feel like we’re ready, we’ll talk.”_

_“Exactly,” Regina smiled. “And, just to let you know, I don’t think it’s going to take too long, from my perspective. As long as we attend some more therapy sessions with Archie and those continue to be useful. We need to keep communicating, right? That’s the most important thing. Whatever we’re feeling, whenever we’re feeling it, we need to talk to each other.”_

Emma reached for her cell phone which was charging on her bedside table. She unplugged it and swiped it open, fingers quickly tapping to what she was looking for.

“Hello?”

Regina’s sleepy voice answered after just a few rings.

“It’s me,” Emma said. “Did I wake you?”

“Um, sort of but it’s ok. Why are you awake so early?”

“No idea,” Emma said, rolling onto her back and settling into her mattress, already feeling more relaxed and calm at the sound of her wife’s voice.

“Are you ok?”

“No,” Emma admitted. “And actually, I do know why I’m awake. Or at least why I couldn’t go back to sleep after waking up early like I usually would.”

“What’s wrong?”

Emma tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come. The thought of saying it out loud made it too real. It was too confronting. An admission that she wasn’t quite as far along in her journey towards recovery as she had made out. But she knew she had to say something. She could hear Regina’s on the other end of the phone, her breath becoming a little more audible. She was nervous, concerned, unsure what Emma was about to say or confess. Emma knew she needed to put the woman out of her suspense.

“I’m thinking about gambling,” she said at last. “I’ve not done it,” she added quickly. “But I’m thinking about it. Not thinking about gambling as in planning a trip to the betting shop or anything. It’s just on my mind. I can’t really describe it. I guess it’s like a niggling feeling which I can’t shake. It’s my brain telling me to gamble but I know I shouldn’t yet I also have this inbuilt belief that gambling will make me happy. I know it won’t, but that’s just something which my brain tells me. Anyway, yeah, I woke up this morning and that niggling feeling which I’ve not felt in weeks was back.”

“Ok,” Regina said slowly. “Thank you for telling me, firstly.”

“I knew I needed to,” Emma said. “After everything we’ve been talking about over the past few days, I knew I couldn’t not tell you.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. Um, can I do anything to help? What do you need?”

“I need a meeting,” Emma shrugged. “There’s one at the town hall at nine this morning. I’ll go to that.”

“Good, that’s good, Emma. I’m proud of you.”

Emma snorted. “Yeah right. How can you be proud of me? I’m supposed to be turning my life around and three days after we start working on our relationship and I’m already tempted to go back to what fucked up our marriage in the first place. That’s hardly something to be proud of.”

“I’m proud of you for telling me,” Regina replied, ignoring the blonde’s dismissive attitude. “I’m proud of the fact that you recognised what you’re feeling and addressed it head on rather than pretending it wasn’t happening or even succumbing to the temptation. I’m proud of you for knowing when and where the next meeting is happening. I’m proud of you for fighting this disease and for resisting the addiction. I’m so proud of you, Emma, never forget that, ok?”

The blonde felt tears spill over from her eyes as the woman spoke, the love and support flowing through the phone and filling her up. “Thank you,” Emma whispered. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“And you have no idea how much it means to me that you called and talked to me about this. I know it’s something which causes you embarrassment even though addiction is nothing to be embarrassed about. So the fact that you confided in me means a huge amount. It tells me that you trust me and also tells me that you think I can be of help and support.”

“I do trust you and you are helpful,” Emma urged. “I know I made a mistake before when I didn’t tell you what was going on sooner. I’m not going to make that mistake again, Regina. This is something we’re going to have to live with. My addiction, I mean. While I want nothing more than for it to disappear from my life forever, I know that’s unrealistic. It’s a part of me which means it’s a part of all my relationships. And I know that the only way for us to move forwards is for us to face it head on. So yeah, when I realised that I was feeling the urge to gamble this morning, I called you.”

“Good,” Regina said. “Keep calling. Day or night. Whenever you need me. And one day, not too far in the future, you’ll just have to roll over in our bed and slide your arm around my waist and whisper in my ear how you’re feeling. We’ll get there, Emma. We’ll get back to where we were just as long as we keep this communication going.”

Emma smiled and rolled over, spreading an arm out to the side of the bed which would have been Regina’s. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Do you want me to come with you to the meeting today?” she asked.

“No, I’ll be ok. Thanks though. I’ll call you afterwards.”

“Ok, good. Well, if you change your mind just call. And if you need to talk, I’m free all day.”

“I’ll call, I promise,” Emma replied.

“I trust you.”

* * *

The stale coffee made Emma purse her lips and place the almost full cup back down on the table. When would she learn that the coffee at these places were terrible? She reached for a bear claw instead to cover up the bitter taste in her mouth. All around her was the low level murmur of other gambling addicts, talking in small groups or pairs as always happened after a meeting. Emma, however, didn’t feel much like hanging around. She bid farewell to the group leader, waved at her sponsor and headed for the exit.

As she stepped outside into the street, she squinted at the sunshine which had appeared since she’d entered the Town Hall an hour earlier. The grey skies which had started the morning had been burned away and a warm spring day was developing. Taking another bite of her bear claw, she headed off down the sidewalk towards her apartment. But she had only gone a few yards when she stopped short.

Eyebrows raised. Then her brow furrowed as she took in what she was seeing. Looking both ways, she crossed the quiet street as the car window was wound down.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, leaning on the sleek black Mercedes.

“I was dropping Henry off at Peter’s house for a play date and I was passing the town hall, so I figured I’d wait for you to finish your meeting. I thought we could go for coffee,” Regina replied, pointing down the street to a café the two women had frequented countless times during their marriage.

“Coffee? So, you’re not checking up on me?”

Now it was Regina’s turn to look confused. “What? No, I was -”

“Stalking me to see if I really did go to the meeting? What, did you not trust me to keep to my word? Did you expect to find me in some underground Casino, gambling away my future?”

The younger woman was already walking away from the car as she spoke and Regina threw the door open, running after her as she stormed down the street. “Emma, wait! You’ve got this all wrong. Please, stop. Emma!” she cried out, grabbing the blonde’s hand and forcing her to stop marching.

“I thought this relationship was supposed to be based on trust,” Emma spat. “I thought the thing which we needed to rebuild was our trust in each other.”

“I do trust you,” Regina said, placing herself on the sidewalk in front of the blonde, blocking the way back to that crummy apartment. “I do trust you, Emma. Honestly, I wasn’t waiting out here to see if you had gone to the meeting. Come on, if I had wanted to spy on you, why would I have parked right where you would have to see me as you walk home? I’m not an FBI agent but you’ve made me sit through enough cop shows to know that surveilling someone doesn’t generally mean parking right in the path, especially not in a vehicle the person you’re supposedly stalking is insured to drive. Emma, please, you have to believe me,” Regina finished with a pleading look up at the blonde who still appeared angry.

“You’re really not stalking me?”

Regina resisted the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the question. “No, sweetheart. I was here to meet you after your meeting and take you out for brunch. I guessed that you hadn’t eaten breakfast and I also assumed that you’d be filling yourself up with bad pastries.” She gestured to the half-eaten bear claw. “I promise you, I just wanted to be here to greet you. I’m sorry if I misjudged the gesture or if I overstepped. If you’re busy or don’t feel like talking, I’ll head home, no hard feelings.”

The anger and indignation visibly faded from the blonde as she listened to Regina, to be replaced by sheepish embarrassment at the conclusion to which she had jumped. “I mean, this bear claw is good but I suppose I could find some room for brunch.”

Regina smiled. “Great, and you can tell me about the meeting. Or not, if you prefer to keep their contents private. Whatever you want to tell me or not tell me, I’ll understand.”

“I’ll tell you everything, I promise,” Emma said, returning Regina’s grin. “But first, can we get some good coffee? The stuff they serve in there tastes like racoon piss.”

“I’m not even going to ask how that analogy popped into your head,” Regina chuckled, reaching for Emma’s hand and threading their fingers together before setting off down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: another step forwards for our ladies!


	26. Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Let’s glimpse into the Swan-Mills family back in the real world.

As the week started again, life across the town slid back into its normalcy. Those few days indoors, unable to leave without risking one’s health became the first topic of conversation each time a new person entered the room. It had been an event, a blip in their lives. For most people, as Emma discovered, it had been a few days to do those unfinished jobs around the house or to make those neglected phone calls to elderly relatives. Or even to get started on the great American novel. But now the world was turning again and things were back to ‘normal’. Well, except for Emma, Regina and Henry.

Emma’s colleagues didn’t know the details about the woman’s separation but they had been aware of the split back in November. And on that Monday morning, even those who didn’t work too closely with the blonde could tell something had changed. The woman positively radiated happiness. So as those conversations about the shelter in place days unfolded, Emma would reveal that she’d found herself locked down with her wife and son and that the time had allowed them to start reconciling.

It felt a little premature, Emma realised, to be telling everyone just a few days into their reunification. There was still work to be done, therapy sessions to be attended, trust to be rebuilt. Yet she couldn’t help herself. And frankly, she couldn’t hide her happiness.

“Someone got laid,” August said as he leaned on the doorframe of Emma’s office.

“Jealous?” Emma teased, leaning back in her chair and grinning.

“Of you? Yes! Have you seen Regina? Your wife is smoking hot.”

“Ok, and that’s where this conversation ends,” Emma laughs, forgetting how much her boss talked about how attractive Regina was. The subject had been off limits for months given the state of their relationship but now it appeared to be fair game once more. She knew August was just teasing and that he’d never make a move. Plus there was the whole lesbian hurdle which he’d never clear. “How was your time in lockdown?”

“Not as good as yours clearly,” August chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve seen you so happy in a long time.”

Emma couldn’t help but melt a little at that. In fairness, she couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy and in a strange way she was proud that it showed on her face. “I’m really happy, August,” she admitted.

“Good, I’m happy for you. Tell Regina I said hi. And when you guys are ready for an evening out together, I’d be happy to babysit my favourite eleven year old.”

* * *

That eleven year old had no qualms about telling his friends at school that his moms were back together either, announcing it to everyone who asked about the past week proudly. He had been reticent to tell people about the split several months earlier but his subdued mood had led to his close friends asking what was wrong eventually. He’d whispered the confession, blinking away tears, and then hastily changed the subject.

Now, however, with his parents seemingly on the right path, he was ready to shout it from the rooftops. Where he drew the line was at the confession of what he’d heard on Friday night. No child needed to hear those sorts of noises coming from their parents’ bedroom and it sure as hell wasn’t something he was going to share with his friends. While Henry’s generation had a progressive attitude to sex, sexuality and relationship, there had been one or two lewd comments from some of the boys in his year about how hot lesbians were. That was not something Henry wanted to think about in relation to his moms, nor encourage as a topic of conversation.

“So, does that mean you won’t get two Christmasses like you did last year?” Roland asked, reaching across and taking a handful of Henry’s chips as the boy finished explaining to his best friend that his moms were getting back together.

“Yeah, I guess so but I don’t care. I’d rather have my moms living in our house than two Christmasses.”

“But you got two sets of presents, two lots of chocolate and stuff,” Roland frowned, clearly struggling to understand what could be better than that.

Henry, however, would have given up Christmas for the rest of his life if it meant his moms were happy and together again. He didn’t tell his friend this because clearly Roland wouldn’t understand. But what he did understand was that Henry’s good mood meant he was willing to share his recess snack. And that was something Roland could definitely get on board with.

Regina’s students noticed the difference in their lecturer as soon as she entered the room. It looked like she was walking on air. A few of them exchanged raised eyebrows as the woman brought up the presentation and started that day’s class. No one said anything; they didn’t have that kind of relationship. But it was clear to everyone in that room that Regina had had a great time sheltering in place with someone.

* * *

“Tell me everything,” Kat said, grabbing Regina’s wrist as the woman walked out of the lecture theatre later that morning.

Regina rolled her eyes at her best friend but permitted Kathryn Nolan to tuck her arm into Regina’s and led her towards the brunette’s office which was on the other side of the building.

“What do you want to know?” Regina asked. “Because if you’re still looking for the meaning of life, I’ve told you I’m going to need a few more years to come back to you with an answer on that.”

Kat squeezed the bicep beside her and sighed. “While I don’t doubt that you’ll be able to crack that one eventually, I was actually referring to the insane sex you had while the rest of us were cooped up, gasping for fresh air surrounding by toxins.”

Glancing around, Regina wondered if any of her students had overheard the woman’s brash comment but the corridor was almost deserted and those who remained were unfamiliar to Regina. “I’d hardly say you were gasping for air, dear. You live further from the plant that I do. Please don’t exaggerate.”

“Fine, I wasn’t dying but I wasn’t having orgasms either. At least, not ones which resulted from another person being in my bed.”

“Kat, seriously,” Regina exclaimed as she unlocked the door to her office and all but shoved the tall blonde inside. “Can you please not talk like that. We’re professors here, remember? We can’t be talking about sex while we walk around. Our students could hear.”

“And you think our students don’t know what sex is? Regina, they’re college kids. Don’t you remember how much sex you were having at their age.”

“That’s not the point. I don’t want them thinking of me in that way.”

“Sweetheart, you do realise they already do, right? You’re hot! The boys all want to get into your pants and so do half the girls. Plus they know you’re married; you never stopped wearing your wedding ring. And they know you have a son so they know you’re not celibate.”

“Um, you do know that Emma and I didn’t conceive Henry together, right? Or do I have to explain lesbian sex to you.”

Kat’s eyes lit up. “Would you? It’s been so long since I’ve had a woman in my bed. In fact, if you’re free this weekend, do you want to come to the Rabbit Hole with me? I could do with a lesbian hookup.”

Deciding that the question was rhetorical, Regina set about firing up her laptop and locating the slides she’d need for her next lecture at the end of the day. Kat, realising she wasn’t going to be answered, threw herself into the chair opposite her friend and leaned forwards, hands on her knees. “So, can you at least tell me what happened with Emma?”

“Well, she was dropping Henry back when I got the alert on my phone. I had no choice but to invite her in to stay until it was safe.”

“I know. You texted me that the evening it happened. I want to know how you went from the text which said you were trapped in the house with Emma to replying to my question of how things were going saying that you two had slept together and were talking about getting back together. I mean, it was just a couple of days later. What happened? Are you really thinking about taking her back? Or was it just sex?”

“It wasn’t just sex,” Regina said simply. “In fact, I think I already have taken her back. We’re just going to do some more therapy but as far as I’m concerned, we’re in a committed relationship again.”

Kat leaned back and folded her arms. “Ok, so … am I happy about this? I mean, are you happy about this?”

“Of course I’m happy. I wouldn’t be with her if she didn’t make me happy.”

“I know that,” Kat assured her friend. “But, I mean, she made you so sad. When you guys split, I didn’t think I’d ever see you smile again. What you and Emma had was amazing, don’t get me wrong, but I thought that had gone forever. I didn’t think you were in a position to try and build back to that place.”

“Nor did I,” Regina admitted. “And without this lockdown, I don’t think we would be. But being back with Emma for that time gave us the opportunity to really talk. Well, I guess it forced us to talk. You know that she’d always wanted to get back together anyway and somehow we ended up talking about the past and she said how sorry she was -”

“Not that that’s new,” Kat interrupted. “She’d said sorry before. What changed?”

Regina shrugged. “I honestly don’t know if I could tell you. I don’t think I really understand it myself. But something big shifted, Kat. I don’t think I can explain it but when we were talking, when we were really communicating and being honest, all those feelings and emotions came flooding back. And yes we’ve still got some things to work through and yes Emma’s got some issues which will always be a part of our lives. But I love her, Kat. I never stopped loving her. These few days together just reminded me of how special our relationship is when we’re in a good place.”

“And you’re happy? I mean, really happy?”

“I am,” Regina nodded with a soft smile. “And I appreciate your concern. I know this is a surprise. I’m still surprised to be honest. It wasn’t what I expected. But it’s also meant I’ve not stopped grinning for days.”

“Yeah, well, great orgasms will do that for you,” Kat smirked.

“You’re incorrigible,” Regina laughed. “Although I’m not denying that the sex was amazing. But it’s always been about more than sex with Emma. I mean, she’s Henry’s mom. We’ve been together for most of our adult lives. I’ve shared so much with her. She was there for me when my parents died, when I got tenure here, when Henry was born. Hell, she carried Henry! Without Emma, I wouldn’t have my son.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to stay with her if you don’t want to,” Kat pointed out.

At that, Regina frowned. “Ok, I’m sensing you’re not on board with this. What’s going on? Are you not happy for me?”

The blonde had the good grace to look guilty when she realised that her friend was hurt by her lack of support. But she couldn’t deny or hide the fact that she’d been concerned when Regina had texted her to say that she and Emma had spent the night together. After all, it had been Kat who was there spooning heaps of ice cream into bowls when Emma had moved out, passing Regina tissues and holding her as she wept.

“I’m sorry,” Kat sighed. “I am happy for you, I really am. But you’ve gotta admit this came out of nowhere. I think I’m entitled to be a bit surprised. And a bit nervous, on your behalf. I mean, Emma’s an addict, Regina. No matter what she says, she’ll always be an addict.”

“I know that,” Regina replied. “Emma has never pretended otherwise. And we’ve talked a lot about that. She knows she needs to be more open with me and she is already doing that. Yesterday morning she called me and said she was feeling a bit wobbly. She went to a meeting and I met her afterwards and we had coffee. She told me all about it, helped me to understand where her mind is at, how she’s feeling and what the processes are which she’ll go through to minimise the risk of her gambling again. I’ve always known she’s a gambler, Kat. That’s been a part of our relationship from day one.”

“Yeah but on day one she didn’t squander your son’s college fund.”

Regina narrowed her eyes slightly. “No, that’s true. But Emma has apologised countless times for that and I believe that she is sorry. I never doubted that she was sorry for what she’d done. And now we’re both working on trusting one another.”

“What do you mean? I get why you don’t trust Emma but why doesn’t she trust you?”

“I do trust Emma,” Regina shot back, ignoring the question.

“Why?”

Regina pursed her lips. “Because I love her,” she replied a little coldly.

“Well, more fool you,” Kat muttered.

“Look, if you’ve got something to say, just say it. I thought you liked Emma. I … I thought you’d be happy for me,” Regina said, feeling very deflated and rather defensive. “We’re working on our marriage and all we need from our _friends_ is a little support. If you can’t give that to me, well, that’s fine but I’d appreciate you keeping your thoughts to yourself if they’re not constructive.”

“I’m just looking out for you,” Kat protested.

“Well, I don’t need you to look out for me. It’s Emma, Kat. I don’t need you to protect me from my wife.”

“You did six months ago,” Kat shot back. “Or have you forgotten the mess you became when you found out that she’d gambled away Henry’s college fund? And what’s to say she won’t do it again? You’re a fool if you think she’s changed, Regina. Addicts don’t change. They just get better at hiding their problems.”

Regina stood up. “Get out. I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Fine,” Kat said, jumping to her feet too. “But next time she fucks up, and she will, don’t expect me to be there to hold you while you cry. If you want to walk back into that relationship and risk your future, and Henry’s future, be my guest. But don’t expect any sympathy from me when it all implodes again.”

By the time the door to Regina’s door had slammed shut, the brunette’s cheeks were wet with tears. She slumped back in her chair and allowed her body to shudder with sobs as the angry clack of her friend’s heels retreated down the corridor. Instinctively, she reached for her cell phone and called her wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just FYI, I had no idea that the ladies’ conversation would descend into the argument it did. I love how my characters can surprise me!


	27. Support

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Sunday!

“Hey, gimme a second to just finish this document up real quick.”

Through the phone, Regina could hear the clacking of Emma’s keyboard. She waited, tears in her eyes, until the final keystroke was done.

“Right, sorry, you caught me mid-flow. What’s up?”

“Kat just yelled at me.”

“What? Why?”

Regina could practically hear the blonde sitting bolt upright in her chair, protective mode firmly in place. “Well, it seems she thinks I’ve made a mistake taking you back.”

There was silence. Then a quiet, “oh.”

“I don’t think I’ve made a mistake,” Regina clarified quickly, swiping away the tears which continued to roll down her cheeks. “But Kat seems to think that I’m deluded. The conversation started off fine. Well, I think she was just fishing for gossip and thought that we’d just had sex because we were stuck in the house together. But then when I told her that we’re trying to make things work and that I still love you and that we’re working through your addiction together, she just turned … mean.”

“Mean? What did she say?”

“She said I was a fool for still loving you. She told me that you’d slip up again. She said addicts don’t change and that she didn’t want to have to pick up the pieces next time you make a mistake.”

Again there was a long silence. Regina suddenly felt nervous about the fact that she’d dumped all of this on Emma. The reaction of her friend was Regina’s business, not Emma’s. Yet, being in a relationship meant sharing these sorts of things, supporting one another. Regina just wasn’t sure if Emma was ready for such eviscerating criticism from Regina’s closest friend.

“I’m sorry,” came the whispered response eventually.

“What are you sorry for?” Regina asked. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Kat’s the one who should be apologising. Why can’t she just be happy for us?”

“Because I did do something wrong. My wrong-doing started all of this in the first place. And while I don’t agree with the way Kat has gone about expressing how she feels, I understand where she’s coming from. She’s trying to protect you, Regina. And I hate that she thinks she has to protect you from me but I get her hesitation. After all, as far as she knows, I’m the wife of her friend who gambled away our son’s future and broke your heart. Isn’t it natural for her to be wary of this?”

“Are you defending her?” Regina asked, frowning.

“I’m saying I understand her motivation. But she shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. She should have been supportive of what you’ve chosen.”

“Yes, but she wasn’t. She was cruel to me and to you.”

“Look, babe,” Emma said, and Regina could imagine her at her desk, running her hand through her hair. “I know you want all our friends to be happy for us but you have to realise that this is going to be a surprise for a lot of them. I mean, it was a surprise for us too, right? Maybe Kat just needs a little time to process, to get used to the idea of us being together again, and to work through whatever feelings she has towards me. Because that anger or whatever you felt from Kat, it wasn’t directed at you. It was meant for me. I’m the one she doesn’t like. I’m the one she doesn’t trust. And we’ve just thrown her a curveball. It’s going to take time for her to get on board. But we can be patient, can’t we? And if she sees that we’re really serious and that we’re working hard on our relationship, I’m sure she’ll come around.”

Regina sighed and leaned back in her chair. “How are you so understanding?” she asked.

“I dunno,” Emma replied. “I guess I’ve had a lot of practice with people not trusting me. Comes with the territory of being an addict. You grow to accept it and to recognise that you need to work harder than usual to gain people’s trust. But I did it with you and I can do it with Kat.”

“You’re an amazing person, Emma.”

“Not as amazing as you. Give Kat time. She’ll come around. Are we still on for dinner tomorrow night? Oh and I phoned this morning to confirm our appointment with Archie for Friday at four. I can pick you up after your last lecture and we can drive over together if you like.”

“You know my schedule?”

“Of course,” Emma replied. “Not in a stalker way. But I’m an observant wife for the most part. I know you have a seminar at two on a Friday which finishes at half past three. That’s why I booked the appointment for four. So, does that work for you?”

“Perfectly. And yes, we’re still on for tomorrow. I thought we could make pizzas. Henry wanted to get take out and we compromised on homemade pizza.”

“I can’t wait. Look, I’ve gotta go. Work stuff. Thank you for calling and talking to me. I’ll head over after work tomorrow so I’ll be with you soon after five. If you need me to pick anything up on my way home, lemme know.”

“Home, huh?” Regina asked with a teasing tone. There was a hesitation on the other end of the phone as Emma struggled to find the right words. Regina decided to put her out of her misery. “I’ll see you at home tomorrow, dear. Have a great day. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

* * *

Shortly after three on Friday afternoon, Emma drove into the parking lot behind Regina’s faculty building. She was early. Deliberately. Grabbing her purse, she got out of the car and strolled into the building, looking far more calm than she felt and far more confident than her frayed nerves let her know.

The familiar corridors reminded Emma that she hadn’t stepped foot in the college for over six months. During their marriage, it had not been uncommon for her to meet Regina during or after work but since their separation, she had stayed clear from the woman’s place of work. Nevertheless, the journey to the woman’s office was etched in her memory. Except she didn’t stop at the door embossed with her wife’s name and instead carried on down the corridor, stopping right at the end.

She hesitated for a moment before raising her fist and rapping sharply on the door.

“Come in,” called the voice from inside.

Emma turned the door handle and let it swing open. She didn’t cross the threshold however, deciding that the person inside had the right to deny her entry despite having initially granted it. Sure enough, her presence was not anticipated and thin eyebrows rose at the sight of the woman in the doorway.

“Emma. What are you doing here?”

“Good afternoon, Kat. I was wondering if you had a moment to speak with me.”

For some reason, Emma always found herself speaking more properly whenever she was interacting with Regina’s colleagues. Around the brunette, she had got over her inferiority complex when it came to the fact that she didn’t have as many diplomas and degrees to her name. The other lecturers and professors, however, continued to make Emma feel uneasy, undereducated. Kat was the only one of Regina’s colleagues whom Emma knew well, having hosted the woman at their house any number of times. Nevertheless, she was still nervous as the woman surveyed her for several moments before answering.

“Yes, I suppose I have ten minutes. Come in. Close the door.”

Emma did so, feeling like a student who was about to be reprimanded for plagiarism. She slid into the chair opposite the professor and crossed her legs, trying to hide the slight tremble that had taken up residence in her calves.

“So,” Kat said, closing the book out of which she had been taking notes and surveying Emma over the desk. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Regina told me about your conversation,” Emma said at once. The brunette had filled her in on everything which had been exchanged between the two colleagues after Henry had gone to bed on Tuesday. The woman had cried again, bemoaning the loss of a friend. Emma had comforted her, silently planning her visit to Kat’s office to see if she could mend bridges.

“Right, I see. And you’re here to tell me you’ve changed, I suppose?” The tone told Emma that if that had been her plan, she would have been fighting a losing battle.

“No, I’m here to tell you I agree with you.”

The woman on the other side of the desk clearly hadn’t been expecting that as her eyes widened slightly and she nodded her head, a silent indication that Emma should continue.

“You’re right. I’m an addict,” Emma said, spreading her hands wide. “I’ll always be an addict. That’s part of who I am and I can’t change that. But what I can do is try every single day to resist those urges and to do what’s right for me and my family. I was doing that for fifteen years with great success. Then, well, as you know, I fucked up. And now I’m trying to make it right.”

“And what’s to say you won’t fuck up again?” Kat asked, not at all won over by Emma’s honesty.

“I can’t guarantee I won’t make mistakes,” Emma admitted. “In fact, I probably will. But I’m going to work on my recovery every day, and every day I’m going to strive to be better for my family.”

“So, does that mean you weren’t thinking about your family last summer when you started gambling again? Forgive me, Emma, but if Regina and Henry weren’t enough to stop you gambling back then, what’s changed?”

“I’ve changed,” Emma said simply. “I realised what I had because of what I lost. And sure, that’s the wrong way round and that’s not to say that I didn’t recognise how amazing Regina and Henry are before then. But losing them both, having to walk away from my family home, that was the sucker punch I needed to wake up. I won’t let myself go back there, Kat. I won’t let myself lose them again. And that’s what’s fuelling my recovery now. I’m doing this for myself but more importantly I’m doing this for Regina and Henry. They’re my world, you know that. They mean everything to me and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for my mistakes.”

“If that’s even possible.”

Emma nodded in agreement. “You’re right. What I put them both through is inexcusable and unforgivable. Maybe things will never get back to where they were but maybe we’ll get to somewhere better. Whatever happens, I think both Regina and I owe it to ourselves to try. We owe it to Henry too. I love Regina, Kat. You know that. I never stopped loving her. I never will stop loving her. And I totally understand why you’re hesitant about this. I get that I hurt her and that I wasn’t there to deal with the mess I left behind. But that was because Regina wasn’t ready to let me back in. And I’m thankful that she had you. You’re such a good friend to her, and I’m grateful to know that she had you as her support system. Regina loves you and respects you so much, Kat. That’s why I’m here.”

“To tell me I’m a good friend?”

“To tell you that I’m sorry for what I did and to show you that I’m serious about making things work with Regina. But I can’t do this alone. I need you too, Kat. Regina values your opinion and your support. That’s why she turned to you when our marriage fell apart. She needed you then and she needs you now. She was so cut up on Monday when she called me. She wants you to be happy for us. She wants your approval. But she’s also going to need your support.

“I’m going to mess up, Kat. Not necessarily with my gambling but in some other way. It’s a marriage, right? People fuck up. That’s the nature of relationships. And when that happens, I want Regina to be able to come to you and bitch about whatever it is I’ve done and then you can rant about me together. But at the end of the day, Regina is going to come back home to me. I trust in that just like Regina trusts in me. But it isn’t going to be easy and she needs your support. So, are you going to let my flaws get in the way of your ability to be Regina’s friend?”

“You think this is all about you, don’t you? Everything is the Emma Swan show in your life, isn’t it?” Kat laughed cruelly. “I’m not angry at you, Emma. I couldn’t give a shit about your gambling addiction. I’m angry at Regina for not seeing through your act. You are an addict. There’s no denying that. And you won’t change. You can’t change. Regina seems to think she can cure you but we both know she can’t and I’m not going to sit around and watch you destroy her again.”

“Regina is under no illusion,” Emma shot back. “We’ve talked about addiction extensively. We both know there’s no ‘cure’. Regina isn’t deluded into thinking she can solve my problems. But she can help me and be part of my recovery. That’s all I need from her, Kat. We’re communicating about everything to do with my gambling now. How can you be angry at Regina for trying to save her marriage?”

“It wasn’t Regina who destroyed the marriage.”

“No, it was me. I hold my hands up to that. But repairing the marriage takes two. We’re both willing to put the work in because we think what we share is worth it. I make Regina happy, Kat.”

“You didn’t last October,” the other blonde scoffed.

“No, but you’ve known us for years. We were happy before then. Fifteen years of happiness isn’t cancelled out by one stupid mistake. Yes, I damaged what we had but there’s still something between us and both Regina and I think it’s something worth trying to save.”

“Then you’re both deluded. This isn’t going to end well for anyone involved and Regina’s making a mistake giving you a second chance.” The anger practically vibrated off the other woman as she spoke, eyes narrowed in the direction of the person for whom she felt unbridled hate.

Emma sighed and got to her feet, knowing the conversation wasn’t doing any good. “Well, maybe this is why you haven’t had a relationship last longer than a year, Kat. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows but when you get past the dark times, that’s when the really strong, long-lasting relationships emerge. I hope one day you find someone you feel is worth fighting for.”

With that, Emma got to her feet and walked out of the office, down the corridor towards Regina’s where she leaned against the wall and waited for her wife, mulling the previous conversation over in her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Again, I was expecting Emma to win Kat around when I started this conversation. Clearly that didn’t happen!


	28. Talking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Sunday!

It was all Emma could do to stop Regina storming down the corridor to confront her colleague when the blonde told her wife about her conversation with the woman’s best friend. Regina was fuming, wanting to go and ask Kat what exactly her problem was and why she was being so unpleasant to them both. But Emma urged her not to, at least not in that moment. After all, they had an appointment to keep. It was with great reluctance that Regina agreed to delay her angry words and instead locked up her office and allowed Emma to take her hand as they walked down the hallway and out to the parking lot.

The car ride was quiet. Regina just stared out of the window, answering Emma’s questions with just a few words. Eventually Emma stopped talking too and they rode together in silence until they pulled up at the address of their therapist’s office. Within minutes, they were buzzed inside by a friendly receptionist and asked to take a seat as they waited for their appointment.

Regina flicked through one of the outdated magazines on the coffee table while Emma busied herself checking her phone. Out of the corner of his eye, the receptionist made a silent calculation as to what would be the chances of these women staying together. It was a game he played with all of his boss’ clients; a great way to pass the time and he had a pretty good success rate with his predictions. In fact his success rate was better than his boss’, at least if you considered a ‘win’ keeping a marriage together. Sometimes, however, in the therapist’s office, it was decided that separation would be better for everyone involved and in those circumstances, an amicable divorce was considered a win.

By the time Archie Hopper opened his office door and invited the women in, no words had been exchanged. Divorce, the receptionist thought to himself as the door closed behind the silent pair. And perhaps not so amicable.

“So,” Archie said, gesturing for the two women to take their seats, “welcome back to the outside world. And it’s lovely to meet you both in person. I do think Zoom is a useful piece of technology but nothing quite compares to meeting people face to face.”

“It’s great to properly meet you too, Doctor Hopper,” Emma smiled, sentiments which Regina echoed.

“Well, I suppose we’ll jump right in. Firstly, I’d like to clarify your current living arrangements. Emma, are you back in the apartment which you’ve been renting since the separation?”

“Yes,” Emma nodded. “I moved back there on Saturday after the shelter in place order was lifted but I’ve had a few meals at home with Regina and Henry. I think for me it was a real shock to the system to find myself alone again, so any opportunity to spend time with my family again has been great.”

“And to what extent is Henry aware of what’s going on? Presumably he’s picked up on the fact that his two mothers are no longer angry or upset with one another.”

“Yeah, well, he kinda overheard us. You know, in bed,” Emma said, cheeks reddening. “So, yeah, he knows.”

“Right. Well, that’s not the ideal way for a prepubescent boy to find out his parents are working on their marriage but at least he knows that you two are trying to put your relationship back together. Regina,” Archie said, turning to the woman who had barely spoken since the session started, “how has it been for you without Emma in the house?” When there was no answer, Archie peered at her curiously and said; “Regina?” a little louder.

“Pardon?” Regina said, snapping back into the present. “Sorry, I missed that. Could you please repeat what you just said?”

“I was asking how it felt for you to have Emma moving out of the family home again. But before we get to that, I’m sensing that your mind is somewhere else. Is there anything you want to speak about before we continue?”

“I’m sorry,” Regina sighed. “You’re right. I’m distracted and I shouldn’t be. I’m just mad,” she said, turning to Emma. “I’m so mad at Kat. What is wrong with her?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. And I’m sorry that she isn’t being supportive. I hope you’ll get some answers from her next time you speak but at the moment we need to be focusing on us, not on what other people think of us.”

Regina nodded in agreement but didn’t look convinced. From everything Archie had heard, he was able to make an educated guess at what was bothering his clients.

“Am I to surmise that one of your friends didn’t take the news too well when you told them that you and Emma were going to try again?” he asked Regina.

“Yes. My colleague, Kat. She was initially keen to hear about what had happened between us just because she likes gossip but when I told her that Emma and I are back together and in therapy and trying to make this work, she got really angry. She was dismissive of Emma and her addiction and said she thought I was making a huge mistake and that she wouldn’t be around to support me when it didn’t work out. And then just before we came here, Emma went to speak to Kat too, to try and clear the air, and got attacked. I’m really angry at her; I don’t understand why she won’t support my choice.”

“Have you asked her?” Archie prompted.

“I asked her what her problem is and she dumped it all on Emma. She blamed Emma for the marriage breakdown -”

“Which is true,” Emma jumped in.

Regina just shook her head, dismissing her wife’s martyrdom. “- and told me that Emma would never change. Then Emma went to speak to her and, well, I suppose you should explain that conversation.” She turned to her wife and nodded at her to continue.

“I owned up to my faults,” Emma shrugged. “I told Kat I was an addict and that I was always going to be a recovering gambling addict and that it was my fault that we’d split up. But I also said that I loved Regina and wanted to make it work. I told her that I appreciated her looking out for Regina and for being supportive and being a good friend. I thanked her for being supportive of Regina and told her I shared her concerns about my own addiction but tried to reassure her that we’re working together on our problems. I guess my candid approach didn’t have quite the effect I had hoped for. She was very dismissive, called me deluded, told me she was angry at Regina for not seeing through my act and basically withdrew her friendship, if that’s even something you can do.”

“I can’t believe she spoke to you like that,” Regina said, seething with anger. “I wish I’d gone down to her office when you told me what had happened.”

“Yes but then we’d be late for Doctor Hopper and I think we both understand the importance of these sessions,” Emma pointed out, nodding her head in the direction of their therapist. “And what would it have accomplished? Or at least what harm will it do to give her the weekend to cool down. Maybe you guys can talk on Monday and see if you can clear the air then?”

“I’m not sure I want to talk to her after the way she spoke to you today and yelled at me yesterday,” Regina said petulantly. “I don’t need her, Emma. I need you.”

Emma’s features softened and a dopey grin spread across her lips. “I need you too, baby. But we both need friends outside of our marriage. That’s healthy and normal. And I know you’re hurting and I know Kat has a lot of explaining to do but I think your friendship with her is one worth saving. Let’s not write her off too soon, ok? Give her a second chance. After all, you’re giving me one, right?”

“Ok,” Regina begrudgingly accepted. “But you’re right. It’s for another day. We’re here to talk about us, not our so-called friends. Sorry, Doctor Hopper, before we went off on this tangent, you asked me a question. I’m ready to answer it now.”

Archie hesitated for a moment but ultimately decided that the women were indeed ready to move on and that the issue of Regina’s friend could either be addressed later in the session or on another day. So he repeated the question, asking what it was like for Regina now that Emma had moved out.

“Quiet,” Regina said at once. “And lonely. Even with our son there, and Henry isn’t exactly quiet. It feels like something is missing. Someone, I suppose, would be more accurate. To be honest, I think I’d always felt it, ever since Emma moved out back in November, but after the intensity of those few days, Emma’s absence felt very acute. Henry felt it too. Within hours of Emma leaving, we found ourselves outside her apartment with ice cream. It was Henry’s plan, to be fair, but I was more than on board when I realised what he wanted to do. And then seeing Emma’s apartment just broke my heart.”

“Gee, thanks,” Emma deadpanned.

“I’m sorry, dear, but you have to accept that place is terrible. I’m surprised there aren’t rats.”

Emma ducked her head and said nothing.

“Emma, please tell me you don’t have rats in that apartment!” Regina exclaimed.

“No, no. Well, not any more,” Emma caveated.

“Oh my god. That is horrifying.”

“Hey, they’re long gone. I dealt with them and before you ask, Henry didn’t stay over until I was sure they were all dead.”

Regina didn’t seem too pleased by this defence but let it slide for now. “Anyway,” she went on, turning back to Archie. “It was strange seeing Emma in her own place, particularly when it was so soulless. You know, she hasn’t unpacked. Everything’s just in boxes.”

“And why is that, Emma?”

“I don’t think you need a degree to work that out, Doc,” Emma chuckled. “I was hoping I’d be going home, right? Even as the months went by, I couldn’t bring myself to unpack more than what I needed. It felt like capitulating to the situation, accepting that my marriage was over. I wasn’t ready to do that. I’m not ready to do that now. And by the looks of how things are going, I think I was right to hold out hope.”

“Well, it certainly looks that way and over the coming weeks we’ll quickly see how things go, I expect,” Archie smiled. “And tell me, how has your gambling addiction been present in your life this week?”

Emma sat back in her chair, fingers now twisting in her lap. “Well, I guess you could say it loomed its ugly head in a pretty abrupt way. Sunday morning. I woke up with that pull inside me. It was stronger than it’s been in months. I don’t know why. I never know when or why it’s coming, to be honest. That’s the nature of being in recovery.”

“And what did you do when you recognised that feeling for your gambling addiction?” Archie asked.

“I called Regina,” Emma said, smiling gently at her wife. “I told her everything I was feeling and then I went to a meeting. Regina met me afterwards and,” Emma hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to tell Archie about their misunderstanding outside the town hall, “and then we had breakfast and I told her about the session. It was good, useful. And I’ve not had any days like that since but I have been going to meetings every other day in the morning on my way to work. Just in case.”

Archie, who had picked up on that momentary pause, nodded slowly. He didn’t say anything, wanting to provide the duo with a moment of silence to see if whatever had been unsaid would fill it. Regina provided him with the answer almost immediately.

“There was also an incident outside the town hall where I was waiting for Emma,” the brunette admitted. “I wanted to surprise her and take her for breakfast but it was a bad idea. It was my fault. I should have told Emma I was going to be there.”

“No, it was my fault,” Emma protested. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt.”

“You had every right not to, thought. I misjudged what I thought would be a nice gesture and I’m sorry. I can understand why you thought I was there.”

“Um, while I hate to interrupt this positive communication, if one of you could enlighten me on what happened, that would enable me to provide my own thoughts after you’ve finished discussing it with such openness.,” Archie smiled.

“Oh, sorry,” Emma laughed. “Well, when I came out from the town hall where the Gamblers Anonymous was meeting, I saw Regina parked opposite in her car. I don’t know why but for some reason a part of my brain thought she was spying on me, following me to see if I really did go to the meeting. I kinda lost my shit for a moment. I’m not proud of my reaction. But then Regina managed to get through to me and reassured me that she really was just there to meet me and see if I wanted to go for breakfast. Which we then did, and we had a lovely time, and it’s all fine.”

“I see,” Archie replied. “Regina, that sounds like a thoughtful gesture but can I ask a provoking question?”

“Of course,” Regina nodded. She was under no illusions that their therapy sessions were all going to be sunshine and roses.

“Were you really just waiting for Emma so you two could have breakfast? Or did a part of you secretly wonder whether Emma was actually going to turn up to that meeting? Was a part of you, conscious or subconscious, there to see if Emma really was true to her word or if she was just saying what you wanted to hear?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Has Archie put the cat amongst the pigeons?


	29. Subconscious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Come on, I’ve not left you with a cliffhanger for months - you have to give me this one!

Emma’s stomach suddenly felt like it was full of lead. Her entire body seemed to grow impossibly heavy, dragging her downwards, surrounding her with an overwhelming sense of dread. She held her breath, waiting for Regina to answer the question which she herself had not dared ever ask even though, she realised, it had been hovering at the edge of her subconscious for five days. Until Doctor Hopper had verbalised it, she’d been able to pretend it wasn’t there, had successfully ignored its presence. Now, however, there was nowhere to hide.

Beside her, Regina remained silent. She too, was going through something akin to an existential crisis as she considered the question. Why had she gone to meet Emma? The justification she’d presented to herself had been to meet her wife for breakfast and show her support. But was that really the reason? Was that the only reason?

She looked down at her hands, fingers twisted together in her lap. She was fidgeting. Regina Swan-Mills didn’t fidget. She balled her hands into fists, trying to stop the movement. Her nails dug into her palms. She squeezed harder.

“Regina,” came a soft voice from beside her after what she recognised to be an uncomfortably long silence.

Raising her head, she turned to face her wife who was looking at her with a sad but understanding expression. A little piece of Regina’s heart shattered just to see the way Emma looked at her; to know she had caused that look. Even after everything which had happened between them, the idea of Emma being hurt by her still made Regina’s own gut clench.

“It’s ok,” the blonde whispered. “Whatever the truth is, I can take it. Just be honest with me. I need to know.”

“I’m sorry,” Regina said, the words catching in her throat as her eyes burned. “I’m so sorry, Emma. I do trust you, I promise.”

“It’s ok if you don’t,” Emma soothed, even though the words caused a heart-wrenching pain as she spoke them. “I get it, sweetheart. I understand. You have every right not to trust me -”

“But I do,” Regina insisted. “I trust you, Emma. I know you want to fight this addiction. I know you are ready to do whatever it takes to stay away from gambling. I know that. I know you’re trying.”

“Just because your mind ‘knows’ something, doesn’t mean your heart believes it,” Emma offered sadly, reaching out to cup Regina’s cheek and brushing away some of the fallen tears with the pad of your thumb. “I hurt you. I broke your heart. I broke us. I need to regain that trust and that’s going to take time. It’s ok, Regina. I don’t blame you for protecting yourself and I’ll be patient. As long as it takes to win back your trust, I’ll be here, waiting. Putting in the work, going to the meetings, doing whatever it is I need to do to show you, every part of you, that you can trust me again.”

Regina swiped the rest of her tears away and gripped Emma’s wrist with her hand. “I know you’re doing everything you can,” she said with a watery smile. “I know I want to believe you. I know I want to trust you. But, well, I guess it’s not enough to want it. I can’t will our relationship back to how it was. I’ve got to be patient. All I can say is that I’m doing everything I can to rebuild my trust in you. I mean, I guess I thought I’d already done it. I thought that to think that I trusted you was enough but it seems it isn’t. And that’s ok, because now we both know and we can work together to rebuild my heart’s trust in you. I want that, Emma.”

“I want that too,” Emma replied. “And I know it’ll take time and that’s ok. I’m not expecting this to change overnight. I’ll be patient.”

“I wish it could change overnight,” Regina sighed. “I don’t want to feel this way, Emma. I want to trust you fully again. I want us to go back to normal. I want to be able to fully support you and be the wife you deserve and you need me to be. Your rock, your constant. Someone you can always rely on.”

“You are that person, Regina. Hell, you’re here, aren’t you? You gave me a second chance. You came to meet me after my meeting not to check up on me but to offer me support, to offer me a chance to talk. I so appreciate that, Regina. And yes, a part of you still remember what I did and that makes you wary or protective of yourself. You should be. I don’t want you to blindly forgive me. For this to work, we both need to remain acutely aware of the risk of my addiction. It’s not going away. I don’t want you to just pretend that my fuck up didn’t happen.

“But acknowledging the past doesn’t mean we can’t look towards the future. You are my rock. You are the person I can always rely on. I trust you, Regina. So much so that I trust that if for some reason you had turned up at the town hall and I wasn’t there, I believe you would have come to find me rather than throwing your hands up in despair and going home, never to speak to me again, right? You believe in me, you would have come to find me and dragged me to the next meeting yourself.”

“I would have,” Regina nodded. “Not that I had planned that eventuality in my mind. Honestly, Emma, I never thought for a moment you weren’t going to be there. It wasn’t until Doctor Hopper,” she turned and nodded to the man who had been quietly listening to the discussion, “asked me if there was a part of me who had wondered about whether you’d turn up that I even realised that thought had been present. I wasn’t sitting in my car anticipating that you wouldn’t show up. I was thinking about what I was going to order for brunch. Consciously, I hadn’t considered the possibility of you not being there. But, well, I guess subconsciously I had. And I’m sorry for that.”

Emma reached out her other hand and moved to grip both of Regina’s in her own. “Never apologise to me for being aware that you’re married to someone with a gambling addiction. Never. I need you to be aware. I need you to acknowledge that. For me, for you. For Henry. It’s a part of me, Regina. And that means it’s a part of our marriage whether we like it or not. I will spend the rest of my life trying to show you that I’m stronger than my disease, that I’m better than it. But that doesn't mean we pretend it doesn’t exist or refuse to talk about it.

“My addiction is a big and scary part of who I am. It’s my baggage, I suppose. And every day I’m trying to squash it into a suitcase and put it in the corner of the room but sometimes the zipper gives way. We both have to accept that and we can work together to stuff the temptations back in. But the suitcase isn’t ever going to go away. It’ll always be there. And if the zipper busts and I, we, don’t give it the attention it needs, then the suitcase is gonna explode everywhere. I have no idea where this analogy came from but does it make sense?”

“It makes perfect sense,” Regina nodded, lifting both of Emma’s hands to her lips and kissing the knuckles. “And any time you need help, just tell me. I’ll sit on the top of your suitcase while you work on tugging the zipper back together, ok?”

Emma beamed at the way her wife had taken her bizarre luggage analogy and bought into it. “Deal,” she agreed, leaning over and kissing her softly. “Thank you.”

Regina whispered, “you’re welcome,” before kissing Emma again. Archie looked down at some paperwork and pretended to be busy reading his untidy scrawl.

“Sorry, Doc,” Emma said when the two had broken apart.

“No, no need to apologise to me. No need for me at all apparently. The way you two communicate is quite fascinating,” Archie smiled at the two women. “And I don’t usually say this to my clients this early on in our sessions but I’ve got a good feeling about your future.”

Both women beamed at him, then at each other.

“I hope so,” Emma said, looking directly into Regina’s chocolate brown eyes.

“Me too,” Regina replied, a gentle smile on her lips. “But,” she added, turning back to their therapist, “we do need you. You ask all the right questions, clearly. That’s what we need. Someone to ask us the hard stuff, get us to face some of the darker parts of ourselves and our thoughts. We know this isn’t the end for us. We’ve got issues to work through but I suppose we’ve just reiterated that we’re both committed to doing the work. And with you here to help us, I think we’ve got a good chance of success.”

* * *

The car doors clunked closed, one after the other. Emma slid her key into the ignition but paused before starting the engine. She looked over to Regina who had lent her head back, resting on the headrest, eyes closed.

Emma leaned over and placed her palm on the woman’s upper thigh. “Hey, you ok?”

The woman opened her eyes and slowly turned her head. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she reassured, flashing Emma a smile. “That was a heavy hour.”

“It was,” Emma nodded. “But good too.”

“It was great,” Regina agreed. “I feel like every time we meet with Doctor Hopper we take huge strides forwards. Or backwards, I suppose, if we’re looking to get back to where we were.”

“We’re not going back to where we were,” Emma replied. “That clearly wasn’t the right place for me and therefore for us. We’re moving forward. And I can’t wait to see where we end up.”

“Me neither,” Regina replied. “For now, how about we end up at our home? Would you like to come for dinner?”

The blonde nodded enthusiastically at that invitation and kissed Regina lightly before starting the engine at last and pulling out of the space where she’d parked and heading down the street.

“Where are you going?” Regina asked when Emma reached a junction and indicated left.

“Um, back to the college to get your car,” Emma replied, still checking whether the road was clear for her to pull out.

“Don’t worry about my car.”

“But, you’ll need it tomorrow to go grocery shopping,” Emma pointed out.

“Then how about you drive me to collect it tomorrow?” Regina suggested.

Emma stopped watching the rush-hour traffic whizz by, preventing her from pulling out and turned to look at Regina. “What do you mean?”

“Stay the night,” Regina offered. “I miss you, Emma. And after everything we talked about this afternoon, I need you near me. If you’re comfortable with that, I mean. If you’re not, then -”

“No, I’m comfortable,” Emma said quickly. “More than comfortable. But only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Regina smiled. “I’d like you to stay the night. The weekend, even, if you want.”

“I’d love that. Do you think this is ok, though? With Henry and everything?”

A car horn beeped behind them, prompting Emma to realise she was still sitting at the junction and was missing opportunities to pull out as the traffic on the main road had slowed for a time. She quickly switched the indicator and after a final check, pulled out to the right, heading away from the college and towards the family home.

“I think Henry will be fine. He knows we’re working on our relationship. He loves having you at ours, of course. And as far as us sleeping together, I’m afraid he’s already more aware of that than we ever wanted him to be of the fact that that happens. Let’s just try and keep it down this time.”

“Well, I can’t promise anything. You know how I love to hear you screaming my name.”

Regina laughed, cheeks flushed, as she slapped Emma lightly on the forearm before rubbing the woman’s skin, feeling the goose pimples her fingertips left in their wake. “Oh, honey. Who says I’m going to be the one screaming as I come?”

Resisting the urge to press her foot on the accelerator, Emma gripped the steering wheel a little harder and tried to concentrate on getting her wife back to their house safely, all the while planning her moves for later that evening, determined to force Regina to muffle her ecstasy into a pillow to avoid scarring their son but equally without compromising their own pleasure and desire for each other.

* * *

Predictably, Henry was thrilled to find out that his blonde mother was going to stay for dinner. He breezed over what the news that she’d be staying the night meant. No kid wanted to acknowledge that their parents had a sex life. Instead, he even asked if they could make pizzas again, having enjoyed it on Tuesday and wanting to spend as much as possible with both mothers.

Regina agreed and instructed Henry to get changed out of his school clothes so he could help her prepare the dough for the pizza bases.

“And you can help too,” Regina said, turning to Emma who was sitting on the kitchen counter swigging a beer and looking wonderfully comfortable and at home. Well, she was home, Regina reminded herself.

“Sure, I’m game. What can I do?”

“Pour me some wine, firstly,” Regina replied.

Emma just pointed to the glass already sitting on the side, a crisp chardonnay waiting to be drunk. “Didn’t think I would help myself to a beer and not get you a wine, did you?” Emma asked, mock aghast.

To be fair, that had been what Regina had assumed but only because she’d gone upstairs to change out of her work clothes as soon as they got home and had missed Emma’s drinks preparation, as well as not having noticed the wine. “Sorry,” she said, reaching for the glass. “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Cheers,” Emma replied, lifting her glass.

“What are we toasting to?” Regina asked, walking over and standing between the blonde’s legs which parted to accomodate for her.

“Us, I suppose. Our future? Doctor Hopper? I mean, I guess we’ve got a lot to acknowledge,” Emma said, reaching out and tucking a strand of Regina’s dark hair behind her ear.

“I’ll drink to us and our future,” Regina replied. “And while Doctor Hopper is instrumental, this work is all us, Emma. It’s me and you. No one else. We’re responsible for our relationship and I’ll do anything I can to rebuild our marriage.”

“Me too,” Emma said, leaning forwards to kiss Regina softly.

She went to pull away, ready to take that sip to toast their declarations but Regina’s hand around the back of her neck kept their lips sealed. Emma melted into the kiss, prying Regina’s mouth open with her tongue and tasting the woman for the first time since Tuesday when the pair had separated after a heated kiss in the hallway. She felt Regina’s body lean in closer and hooked her ankles around the back of the woman’s thighs, anchoring them together.

“Oh God!”

The exclamation of their son forced the kiss to end. Henry glowered at the two of them as they shot him sheepish expressions.

“Right, Henry, put on an apron please and get the flour out of the larder.

“What can I do?” Emma asked, sliding off the counter after Regina stepped out of the way.

“Would you be capable of whipping up a simple tomato sauce for the base?” Regina asked.

“I think I can manage that,” Emma nodded. “But first.” She leaned over and kissed Regina firmly once more. “Sorry, just wanted to finish that kiss. Also, cheers; to us and our future.”

“To us and our future,” Regina repeated, clinking the edge of her wine glass on the neck of Emma’s beer bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know, sickeningly cute. Next chapter will start off NSFW. Cos, you know, it’s been a while!


	30. Passion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As promised, NSFW. All of it.

“Shhh,” Emma whispered as a groan rumbled from the throat she was peppering with kisses. 

Regina promptly ignored her, letting out a little gasp as Emma’s teeth grazed over her pulse point. Ok, she wasn’t ignoring Emma. It was impossible to ignore Emma Swan-Mills when she started kissing your neck, Regina had discovered early on in their relationship. And Emma knew that. Which was exactly which she had headed straight for the woman’s exposed skin on that slender body part as soon as their son had called down his goodnights from the top of the stairs. 

“Emma,” the older woman gasped as she felt eager lips seal over her skin. “Don’t leave a mark.”

“Why not?” the blonde asked, detaching herself obediently and making her way up to Regina’s earlobe instead, another erogenous zone. 

“Because, oh god that’s amazing,” Regina shuddered. “Because, we’re not teenagers. And because I don’t want my students, oh wow, do that again. I don’t want my students to think I let, oh fuck yes, you maul me.”

“But you do,” Emma pointed out, tongue flickering over the plump flesh of the woman’s lower lobe. “And you love it.”

Regina decided not to reply. She knew it was no use to deny what Emma had said. It was true. She did like it when Emma took control. She also knew that the blonde would now be respectful and wouldn’t mark her skin. At least not somewhere visible to anyone other than the two of them. So she rolled her head to one side, granting Emma greater access as the woman’s tongue swirled around the tender skin of her ear before making its way back down her neck and laving a line along her jutting collarbone.

“We should go upstairs,” she murmured as Emma’s fingers began to fumble the top button on her shirt. 

“But the couch is right here,” the blonde replied, lips now pressed against the skin between the woman’s breasts.

“And our son might walk in,” Regina reminded her lover. 

Emma grumbled her acquiescence and pulled away. Much as she wanted the woman right there, right then, she did recognise that perhaps they had already scarred their son enough for the month. So she got to her feet and turned to offer Regina her hand. The brunette took it willingly and rose to follow the woman out of the living room. As they passed through the house, they turned off the lights and locked the front and back door. Both knew they weren’t going to be leaving the bedroom again. 

By the time they got to the top of the stairs, Emma was tingling with desire for the woman who had walked up ahead of her. Following Regina up a staircase was enough to give anyone a heart attack. It didn’t help that as she walked, the woman unbuttoned the rest of her shirt, allowing the silk to flap open. At that moment, Emma wasn’t sure whether she wanted to be in front of the woman walking backwards or behind her. Either way, at the top of the stairs Emma pulled her wife back and pinned her against the wall, unable to wait any longer. 

Regina hissed out a protest about Henry’s room being right down the hallway as Emma’s hand cupped one breast while the other pressed against her hip, keeping her in place. After stealing a heated kiss, Emma allowed them to finish the rest of their journey and led them into the privacy of the master bedroom. Regina’s bedroom. Their bedroom? Emma decided not to think about it as she watched the woman dim the lights but not turn them off completely. She grinned as the silk shirt fluttered to the floor, walking backwards to the bed and sitting on the edge as she watched Regina strut towards her. 

“So, where were we?” the brunette asked, planting a knee either side of Emma’s hips and mounting the younger woman, pressing her backwards into the mattress. 

“In heaven,” Emma replied, reaching up and tucking the fallen strands behind Regina’s ear. It didn’t work. The short dark locks swung back down like a curtain. But Emma found she didn’t mind. When Regina lowered her mouth to meet Emma’s, they found themselves in a mini cocoon in which only their kiss existed. Emma quite liked the thought of a world which was only her kissing Regina. That really would be heaven. 

She allowed Regina to lead for now, knowing that the brunette would be more than willing to submit to Emma later in the night. They rarely ventured into power play but in general, Emma tended towards being a top while Regina enjoyed being a bottom, although the woman would never use that word. Emma understood; everywhere else in the brunette’s life, she was the leader, the boss, the authority. So there was something refreshing about submitting in bed. Even if the woman never vocalised that dynamic.

Which was what Emma was thinking of when she suddenly flipped the two of them over. Actually, that was too elegant an explanation for what Emma did. More accurately, she gripped Regina’s hips and maneuvered the woman off her, guiding the woman onto her back. She then hiked herself onto one elbow and swung her leg over Regina’s thighs. Flipping a lover, Emma had discovered after nights of practice culminating in a concussion, was impossible. 

“My turn,” Emma murmured against Regina’s breasts.

The older woman stretched her hands above her head, pressing her chest higher against Emma’s mouth. She also arched her back away from the bed, inviting Emma to undo her bra, an invitation the blonde accepted at once. Topless, Regina threaded her fingers through Emma’s hair as a warm mouth covered her taut nipple. Teeth immediately closed lightly against the sensitive nub. She gasped. Emma grinned, releasing her nipple and starting to circle it gently with her tongue. Bringing her fingers up to toy with the other nipple, Emma began to alternate between the two, making sure neither breast felt left out until both were strained and wet with her saliva. 

“Emma, please,” Regina groaned as the blonde switched sides yet again. 

“Something wrong?” Emma asked, feigning ignorance. After fifteen years with Regina, she knew exactly what the woman was whining about. 

“Please touch me,” the brunette vocalised. Their dominance rarely ventured into play which involved begging. It wasn’t really Regina’s style. But she wasn’t above asking for what she wanted. No, what she needed. 

Emma, however, wanted to draw out the woman’s yearning for a little younger. “I am touching you,” she replied, fingers brushing over her sensitive nipple as if to prove a point. 

“Emma,” Regina growled, “come on. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Emma grinned. “But I still wanna hear you say it.”

Regina huffed and glowered at the blonde. But she couldn’t truly shoot her a disapproving look, not with Emma’s tongue now tracing the pebbled skin of her neglected nipple. “Fine. I want you to fuck me, Emma Swan-Mills. How’s that?”

Green eyes darkened above her. “That, my love, is so fucking hot.” A short, needy kiss was pressed against Regina’s lips before a flurry of blonde hair wriggled its way down the bed, sliding onto the floor and divesting the woman of her remaining items of clothing. Less than a minute later, Emma was kneeling between Regina’s legs. “Come here.”

Regina shifted herself forwards, bringing her hips to the edge of the mattress, Emma’s shoulders surrounded by her thighs. She propped herself up on her elbows, looking down her body at the woman now leaning towards her centre. 

“God I’ve missed you,” Emma murmured, finger stroking the soft flesh of her inner thighs, lips pressing kisses soon afterwards.

“It’s only been a week,” Regina reminded the woman now shuffling forwards on her knees.

“I know but I meant for the months we were apart. I missed you so much, Regina. Not just the sex, by the way. I missed everything. I missed telling you about my day. I missed going on walks after dinner. I missed making you coffee. I missed lazy Sunday mornings. I missed sharing takeouts, even though you always order too many healthy options. I missed everything about us, Regina. And I want to make up for every second we missed out on. Starting,” she added, leaning forwards to kiss just above the woman’s core, “with how much I missed fucking you.”

The change in tone from beautiful and sweet to raw and urgent made Regina gasp. Or maybe it was the fact that Emma sealed her lips around her cunt. Either way, Regina found herself lying flat on her back, fingers tangled in blonde tresses as the woman’s mouth started to work feverishly on her core. There was nothing slow, nothing gentle or even romantic about how Emma’s tongue lashed over her clit. It was desperate. It was passionate. It was needy. It was exactly what Regina wanted.

She hooked her right thigh over Emma’s shoulder, heel digging lightly into the woman’s shoulder blade, urging her ever closer even though Emma was already pressed fully against the woman’s sex. But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, Regina thought. As if she was reading her wife’s mind, Emma reached up and pressed one, then two fingers into the woman’s core. Regina arched off the bed, a guttural moan falling from her lips. “Emma, yes.”

The blonde didn’t need the confirmation that she had done the right thing. The two of them knew each other better than they knew themselves when it came to what they wanted in bed. She moved her fingers slowly but surely to begin with. Pressing deep inside, curling just the tips against the front wall of the woman’s channel and then pulling almost all the way out before repeating the action. All the while, her tongue continued to lash over her hard little clit, the nerves hot and desperate within her mouth, Regina’s fingernails in her scalp telling her how close she was. 

And she got close quickly. Emma didn’t want to take full credit. She was sure the week since their last time together along with the intense therapy session as well as, perhaps, the underlying stress of the woman’s teetering friendship with Kat meant that Regina’s body was primed for a hard, fast, dirty orgasm. But despite the other factors, Emma was only too pleased to be the reason Regina came. 

She added a third finger, feeling that the woman was more than wet enough to take it. The rhythm continued, speeding up slightly as she heard Regina’s breathing quicken. She was close. Emma pumped her fingers harder, in and out, trying to avoid poking herself in the chin with her pinkie finger. But it would be worth it to ensure she brought Regina to her peak with her mouth. She loved the feeling of the woman’s core clenching and quivering around her fingers while also feeling her clit twitch beneath her tongue. 

And that’s exactly what happened. Regina let out a short cry before clamping a hand to her mouth, trying to muffle the sound as her body crested. Her hips rolled forwards towards her lover as Emma’s mouth worked relentlessly, diligently against her cunt, the pace of her fingers never letting up as the waves of pleasure crashed over her body. It was too much. It was everything. She closed her eyes and surrendered to the sensation, almost forgetting where she was but stifling her cries in her palm as she rode out her orgasm.

“Emma,” she moaned as she came down from her high. The blonde was still between her legs, fingers still buried deep inside her but still low. Her lips were pressing featherlike kisses to her thighs, knowing the brunette couldn’t take any more direct stimulation. “Come here,” she said softly, guiding the woman up to lie beside her.

They kissed slowly, Regina tasting herself on the blonde’s lips and feeling her core clench around nothing as Emma slid her fingers free. “I’ve missed you too,” she whispered. “And not just the sex. I want us back, Emma. I want you back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. I also won’t be writing one next weekend as I’m moving into my first house on Friday! I’ve spent the weekend packing and have just finished boxing up the first 30 years of my life and am sitting writing in my childhood bedroom, getting ready to embark on the next chapter. Yay for me! But I’m afraid I won’t have time to write an actual chapter next week. Why not read one of my completed stories if you’re getting SwanQueen withdrawals!


	31. Explanation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: so much has changed in my life since I last wrote these women. I hope I haven’t lost momentum and you readers haven’t lost interest!

In fact, Emma didn’t drive Regina to retrieve her car from the college parking lot the next day. They did the grocery run together, in Emma’s car, neither voicing the familiarity of the domestic chore. So, it was Monday morning by the time the duo returned to the campus, both women avoiding finding any reason over the previous two days to make the short drive and, in effect, end the spell. So Regina climbed out of Emma’s car on the edge of campus after giving her a final kiss, a sign that the weekend well and truly had ended. 

“I’ll see you on Friday,” Emma promised, kissing Regina’s knuckles as her hand reached back into the car to pick up her handbag. If she had it her way, she’d be heading back to their home that evening after work but they had agreed the night before to spend another week apart and attend another therapy session. And because Emma had a busy week of work ahead, the two wouldn’t see each other until they met outside Archie’s office in five days time.

“I can’t wait,” Regina replied, smiling softly at her wife. 

Wife. That word had come to feel normal again over the past two days. Not that the women had had a conversation about it but the life they had fallen into, the way they had interacted with each other and with their son too, was remarkably reminiscent of how the little family had lived in bliss for years before Emma’s gambling addiction had reared its ugly head. For the most part, from the moment Emma walked back into their family home on Friday evening, to the time the women climbed into her car to drive to work on Monday morning, they had acted as wives. As they always had been. 

Regina considered this as she walked across the parking lot, glancing at her abandoned car just to confirm that it was still there. It was. She continued towards her office, mind wandering from her first class back to Emma. Back to her wife. There was a long road ahead of them. With Emma’s addiction, that road would never end. But Regina now knew that she didn’t want her future not to contain Emma. More than that. She wanted Emma to be the centre of her future. Emma and Henry. That was who made her happy. That was who made her feel loved and special and safe and appreciated. No matter what it took, she was determined to put the past behind her and move on with their marriage. 

“Oh sorry,” Regina said automatically as she collided with someone as she rounded a corner inside her faculty building, sending the paperwork they’d been carrying scattering across the corridor. She bent to help pick up the loose sheets before realising who she’d walked into. “Kat.”

“Regina,” her friend replied, avoiding eye contact as she hastily gathered the paper which had escaped her grasp. 

They worked in silence, picking up all the pieces until the floor was tidy once more. Regina stood up and handed out the sheets she’d collected to Kat. “Here you go,” she said, feeling an awkwardness she’d never felt with her favourite colleague before.

“Thanks.” Kat took the paperwork but continued to avoid Regina’s gaze.

There was a moment’s pause, when Regina wondered whether she should say anything but after deciding that not only was it not her responsibility to make amends but also that she was still angry, she said, “well, see you around.”

As she set off down the corridor, Regina felt a sense of sadness and loss. With every step she took away from the woman she had once considered her closest friend, Regina knew the bond between them was being severed forever.

“Regina, wait.”

She spun around at once, surprised by her body’s eager, immediate reaction towards the prospective olive branch. Kat was walking back towards the stop where Regina stood, eyes glittering. Regina was surprised to see the blatant display of emotion on the woman’s face and waited for Kat to say more. 

“I’m sorry.”

A good start, Regina supposed. A part of her wanted to forgive Kat at once, to draw her friend in for a generous hug and tell her about the amazing weekend she had shared with Emma. But another part of her was still hurting. Hurting for herself and for Emma. So she hesitated, waiting for Kat to elaborate.

“I fucked up,” she sighed, eyes now cast down at her shoes. “I was projecting my own experiences onto you and Emma and that’s not fair. I know Emma’s different. I know she’s not my father.”

It took a moment to recall what the woman was talking about but the moment she did, Regina felt herself softening. In that moment, she remembered a conversation the two women had had early on in their friendship but the subject of which had never been broached again. “Your father was an addict.” It was a statement, not a question. 

“He was a drunk. A violent drunk. Loved the bottle more than he loved me and my mother. So when Emma gambled, I guess I assumed she was putting her addiction above you and Henry. It scared me, Regina. I was scared for you. But I know it’s not my place to wade into a marriage the way I did and I’m sorry. Emma’s different, I can see that now.”

Glancing at her watch, Regina suggested to Kat that they move the conversation from the public hallway into an empty classroom, given that they both had fifteen minutes before their first classes started. Kat agreed and followed Regina into an empty seminar room a little way down the corridor.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Regina began when they’d both sat down. “I’d actually forgotten what you told me about him until just now. I guess that makes me a bad friend, huh?”

“I don’t talk about him much. And for good reason. You were under no obligation to remember my crappy childhood. I’ve moved on from what happened when I was a kid. Anyway, he died when I was fifteen. It’s not like I spent the whole of my life dealing with him.”

“No, just your formative years. I’m so sorry, Kat. I can’t imagine how hard that would have been,” Regina replied.

Kat nodded and then shrugged. “It’s in the past. And that’s my point. My experience with my father was years ago. Decades, even. And it has nothing to do with you and Emma. But for some reason my stupid brain made the connection and instead of being happy for you, I reacted based on my own experiences with a completely different addiction. I know drinking is different to gambling. I know Emma isn’t my father.”

“They’re different addictions but they are both addictions. I can understand why you were nervous. Hell, I was and am still nervous. Just like your father made a choice each day to drink, Emma has to make a choice each day not to gamble. I see the similarities, Kat. I can understand why you felt you needed to be protective of me. But what I do struggle with is what you said to Emma.”

It would have been naive, Kat realised, to think that her conversation with Emma hadn’t been relayed, word for word, to Regina. The women shared everything. It was something she’d always admired and envied about their relationship.

“Which part?” Kat asked, recognising that there were many parts which Regina may choose to take umbrage at.

“You told her you were angry at me rather than her. You said you couldn’t understand how I couldn’t see through Emma’s act and that I was deluded if I thought I could change her.”

Hearing the words back, Kat winced. She knew, instantly, that it was another example of her projecting her own experiences onto her friend. Guilt welled up inside at once. 

“My mother,” she said, offering an explanation, a justification. “As a teenager, I was so mad at her for staying with my father. I didn’t understand how she put up with it. I didn’t understand why she stayed, why she didn’t just up and leave. I kept asking her, pleading with her to take me and my brother and leave my father. I told her I didn’t need a dad, I didn’t want a dad like him. But she told me that he was a good man underneath and that she could help him get better. Now I can see that the problem was that my dad didn’t want to get better. He couldn’t care less about stopping his drinking. He didn’t see it as a problem in the first place. My mother was never going to change him and I knew she was deluded to think that she could. So, I guess that’s another example of me projecting. I’m so sorry, Regina. I never meant to react so strongly. I guess everything that happened brought up some shit I’ve not dealt with. But that’s my issue, not yours. And I should never have spoken to you or to Emma the way I did. Does she hate me? Do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you, Kat,” Regina said quickly. “I could never hate you. I was hurt, I won’t deny that. We both were. Something positive had happened in my life for once and I wanted to share it with you. So when you weren’t happy for me, yeah, that hurt. And because I was upset, Emma felt sad too. That’s why she came here, although I had no idea that was her plan, by the way. She wanted to try and smooth the way for us to reconcile, but I guess perhaps it was still too soon for you.”

“I was still processing. But I’m an adult; I shouldn’t have gone off at her like that and said such hurtful things. I truly am sorry and I understand if Emma never wants to spend time with me again.”

“Emma’s hurt and confused, just like I was. She likes you, Kat. She considered you a friend. But she came to see you because she could see that I had been upset by our conversation and she wanted to make me happy by helping us to make up, I suppose. Perhaps it was misguided but she thought coming to speak with you would help. Once I explain to her what happened and why you reacted as you did, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Really? And you … I mean, do you forgive me?”

Regina cocked her head to one side, considering her friend who suddenly looked so small and vulnerable and unsure of herself. “Of course I forgive you, Kat. I know that whatever you said was said because you care for me. It wasn’t said out of malice.”

“I do care for you. And for Emma. I just want you to be happy.”

“I know. But what you have to accept is that Emma makes me happy. Regardless of our past, and we all know Emma’s made some mistakes. No one’s perfect. I made mistakes too. But we’re happy together, Kat. We’re meant to be together, I know that to be true in my heart.”

“I know it too,” Kat said with a smile. “Any fool can see that you two are soulmates. If any couple can face addiction, it’s you two. I’m just sorry my own history clouded my judgement.”

“We all let our emotions take over at times. I guess emotions are why I kicked Emma out in the first place. And they’re also why I invited her back into our family home. Emotions are powerful and confusing and we can’t always control them. So I do forgive you, Kat. All I ask is that you trust me and Emma to make our own decisions about our relationship.”

“Of course I trust you,” Kat said at once.

“And Emma?”

“I trust her too,” Kat replied solemnly. “I know how much she loves you and Henry. She will do everything in her power not to hurt her family, which is more than could be said for my father.”

There was a pause. Regina wasn’t sure what to say to the sad note at the end of Kat’s declaration. So she did what she had planned to do ever since she’d realised their friendship wasn’t doomed. “Do you want to come over to dinner this weekend? Clear the air between you and Emma?”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. We’d both be happy to have you. Does Saturday work for you?”

Kat positively beamed. “Saturday’s perfect. I’ll bring dessert.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wrote this from an old sofa in my new (but 250 year old) house with my cat beside me because there isn’t a dog around to terrorise her any more - bliss!


	32. Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Sunday peeps!

In truth, Emma wasn’t entirely thrilled at the prospect of having dinner with Kathryn when Regina recalled the conversation. While she said nothing to her wife that night on the phone when the brunette informed her about their dinner plans that upcoming Saturday, Emma stewed in her thoughts for the rest of the week. It was only after their therapy session, when the two women were driving together back to their family home, that she decided to voice how she felt.

“So, can I say something to you?” Emma asked as they drove.

Regina glanced across the centre console at the blonde whose tone and posture told her Emma was tense about something. “Of course, my dear. You can say anything to me any time. Communication, right? Didn’t our therapist just commend us on exactly that?”

It was true. Archie had once again remarked on how clearly the two women communicated. Their therapy session had been focused predominantly on Emma’s new schedule of regular meetings with the GA group, discussing how she felt her journey was progressing as well as inviting Regina to comment on how she was feeling with regards to the way Emma spoke about her addiction. It had been a good session. A positive one. And one which had impressed Archie too. They had left his office hand in hand, smiling at one another, both recognising that they were on the right path. So for Emma to ask permission to speak shocked Regina slightly. She thought they were past that; past the point of keeping secrets from one another.

“I know but I don’t want to say something which will make you mad,” Emma said, an attempt to justify why she was hesitant.

Again, Regina looked sideways at her wife, eyes still trained on the road as she drove. “Emma, darling, just tell me what you’re thinking, please. You know I’d rather you be honest with me, whatever it is you’re going to say, than keep something from me. Honesty is more important than us always agreeing on every subject.”

“It’s about Kat, though,” Emma replied. “She’s your friend. I guess, I don’t know if I have the right to say what I want to say.”

“Emma, you’ve known Kat almost as long as I have. She’s your friend too. Just because I’m closer to her, doesn’t mean I have the monopoly on the friendship. And after everything which happened last week, I think you’re entitled to an opinion. So, please, go ahead. I promise I won’t be angry.”

“You can’t make that promise. You don’t know what I’m going to say,” Emma pointed out.

“Unless you’re about to declare that you have a plot to murder Kat when she comes over for dinner tomorrow night, I’m sure I won’t be angry,” Regina reasoned.

Emma let out a low chuckle. Ok, perhaps what she was going to say wasn’t as bad as planning a homicide. She was still nervous, but now she’d voiced the fact that her thoughts existed, she knew she had to plough forwards and speak her truth.

“Fine. Look, I know I said on Monday that it’s fine for Kat to come over. And I’m not saying it’s not fine. She can come to dinner, of course. She may be a friend of mine but she’s closer to you and if you want her to come, then she’s coming. That’s fine. But I just have to say that I’ve not forgiven her yet. I know you have and that’s amazing. You’re clearly a better person than I am, which I don’t think was ever in doubt and -”

“Emma,” Regina admonished, interrupting the woman’s self-criticism.

“Whatever, anyway, I’m just saying, I’m still a little bit mad. Not like crazy mad. Not murder mad. But I’m not ready to let go to what she said to me. What she said to you, actually. I’ll break bread with her. I’ll even help you cook if you give me a simple task which won’t mean dinner is ruined if and when I mess it up. But I’m not ready to forgive her yet. At least, not without having a frank conversation with her. Is that ok?”

By the time Emma had finished explaining how she felt, Regina had pulled the car onto the driveway. Emma’s own vehicle remained in the college parking lot. They’d collect it over the weekend. Or on Monday morning, if the previous weekend was anything to go by. Regina killed the engine but made no move to get out of the car. Instead, she reached over the console and placed her hand gently on Emma’s knee.

“Do you want me to cancel tomorrow evening?” she asked softly.

“No,” Emma said at once, her own hand covering Regina’s. “I know you want her to come. She’s welcome. And truthfully, I’ve been thinking a lot about this all week and I reckon seeing her will help me to start to get over what happened. But like you said, being honest is super important and I just wanted to make sure you knew where my head was at before tomorrow night. But she is welcome. I know I can’t avoid her forever. She’s your friend. She’s my friend too, I guess. But right now I suppose our friendship needs a bit of work.”

Regina squeezed Emma’s thigh before turning her palm over and lacing their fingers together. “Thank you for being honest with me. And Kat will understand. She knows she hurt us both and she wasn’t expecting either of us to forgive her. It’s going to take time. And to be honest, it’ll probably take me some time to get back to the dynamic we enjoyed before all this happened. But we’re on the right path. And if and when you’re ready to have that sort of friendship again, I know Kat would be grateful to have you in her life. But there’s no pressure, from either of us, ok?”

* * *

If Emma was nervous about the dinner, Regina saw the same emotion on her friend’s face when she opened the front door the following evening. She greeted Kat with a warm smile and a hug before taking the bottle of wine and a large bouquet of flowers. While it was customary for them to bring drinks to one another’s houses whenever they had dinner together, the flowers were unusual. Regina didn’t say anything, however, other than admiring the beautiful display.

“Emma, Kat’s here,” she said as she entered the kitchen having taken the woman’s coat in the hallway.

The blonde, who had been carefully measuring out ingredients for the salad dressing, stood up from where she’d been crouched to gain the most accurate reading on the measuring jug and placed the bottle of olive oil on the side. “Kat, hi,” Emma said with a smile which didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How’s your Saturday been?”

“Busy but good thanks,” Kat replied. “How about you?”

“Henry and I went for a cycle ride this morning which was great until I fell off,” Emma replied, holding up her hand which had been expertly bandaged by Regina who had commented that at least now she had a conversation starter for that evening as she’d wrapped the crisp white fabric around Emma’s grazed palm.

“Ouch. Rather you than me. I never learned to ride a bike.”

“What?” Emma looked aghast at the notion.

Kat shrugged. “I grew up in the city. There weren’t many places to cycle and my parents never taught me. Then by the time I realised it was a life skill I was missing, I felt like I was too old to learn. And let’s face it, on a day to day basis, my lack of cycling prowess doesn’t hold me back.”

“True but cycling is great. Although Regina probably wouldn’t have minded not learning. You haven’t accompanied us in years, have you?” she added as Regina walked up to her and slid her arm around her waist, having placed the flowers in a vase on the table where they’d eat dinner in due course.

“I couldn’t keep up with you by the time Henry was seven. I figured it was something the two of you could enjoy together.”

Emma smiled down at Regina and kissed her lightly. Whether the public display of affection was meant to signal something to Kat, Emma wasn’t entirely sure if she was honest with herself. The gesture felt right but when she looked back at their guest, she could see the woman was wrestling with saying something.

“Wine?” Emma said, a little too loudly. She wasn’t ready to have whatever conversation the evening would bring just yet. Alcohol would help, however.

Regina sprang into action at her wife’s suggestion. “Yes, good idea. Kat brought that red we both love. Would you like a glass of that, a white wine or a beer, Kat?”

“Red wine’s perfect, please,” Kat replied.

“Emma?” Regina asked, knowing her wife would probably prefer a beer but always liked to have a wine or two when they were entertaining. She had once said to Regina that it made her feel more refined, even if she wasn’t too keen on the drink itself. This comment had been years ago and Regina had laughed at the woman’s confession before assuring her that she didn’t need to try to be refined and was welcome to drink whatever she wanted. But Emma had always continued to feel self-conscious in social settings because she knew her drink of choice was not seen as classy, sophisticated or even feminine. Plus, when set alongside Regina in any situation, Emma felt less than in each of those categories compared to her wife. And she was fine with that. But nevertheless…

“Red wine for me too, please,” Emma replied. “Kat, there are some nibbles on the table if you’re hungry. We’re a little way off eating, right babe?”

“About twenty minutes,” Regina nodded, setting about pouring out three glasses of wine as requested. “Here you go, Kat. Take a seat.”

Kat did so, sipping her wine once she was sitting at the table before taking an olive and cube of manchego. She watched as Emma held out the finished salad dressing for Regina’s inspection. Emma had never been a natural cook and although she liked to help out, Kat knew from experience seeing the two women together that she needed validation that she had indeed completed each culinary task correctly. She used to find it endearing. No, scratch that, she still did, as she saw Emma beam with pride as Regina declared her dressing perfect.

“So, this is nice,” Regina said as she settled down beside her friend, having been assured that everything was cooking as desired and would be ready in due course.

“It is,” Kat replied. “Cheers.”

They clinked their glasses together before turning to Emma who had wandered over too and taken the seat opposite the other women. “Cheers,” Emma echoed.

The trio sipped in unison before falling silent. Regina was waiting for Emma to speak, understanding from a previous conversation that the blonde wanted to clear the air as early in the evening as possible. And knowing Emma as well as she did, Regina suspected the woman was summoning the courage to voice her misgivings.

“Emma, can I say something quickly?”

Regina looked at her friend, not entirely surprised that it had been Kat to break the awkward silence. Emma was far more capable of sitting in a brooding space than most people she knew. Regina could barely manage ten seconds of silence before needing to make polite small talk. Kat, it seemed, was the same.

“Sure,” Emma nodded, relief sweeping over her that she hadn’t had to be the one to broach the subject first and keen to see what the other blonde wanted to say to her.

“I’m sorry for how I spoke to you last week. I’m sure Regina told you about my father but I felt I needed to apologise to you personally. I was reacting from a place of pain and it had nothing to do with you. I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. You didn’t deserve it.”

Emma took another generous swig of her wine before answering, allowing herself some time to process the words. It was, she mused, the perfect opening. “Well, thank you for saying that. Although, I do think your reaction was partly to do with me. It might have been influenced by your experience with your father but I know you were just thinking of Regina. And let’s face it, clearly I wasn’t when I started gambling again. I appreciate what you were trying to do. You wanted to protect your friend and I respect that.”

“Thank you,” Kat said quietly. “That’s very gracious of you.”

“But,” Emma continued quickly. “I need you to know that I’m not like your father. I never intended to hurt Regina or Henry. My family is what motivates me every day to fight against my addiction. And yes, it is a fight but it’s one I am determined to win every day for the rest of my life. I love Regina. You know that.”

“I do,” Kat nodded. “I’ve never seen a couple so in love. It’s sickening really.”

Emma and Regina both chuckled, neither denying what the other woman said. It was true; their devotion to one another was enough to make stomachs churn in a mixture of nauseatingly cute disgust and envy.

“Well, then I guess it just hurt me all the more when you tarnished me with the same brush as your father,” Emma said soberly. “If you can see how I feel for Regina, how could you possibly think that I’d treat her the same way your father treated your mother? We’re different people. Yes, I fucked up and I know you were there for Regina at that time and I am grateful for that but I hope you never doubted my love for her.”

“I don’t now, but I did then,” Kat replied simply. “Those days after you left, the way Regina was, yeah, I doubted your love. I didn’t doubt Regina’s love for you. She was heartbroken; I could see plain as day that she loved you otherwise the separation wouldn’t have been so painful. But I did question your love for her. Just in the same way as I didn't believe my father loved my mother. Because we don’t do things like that to people we love.”

There was suddenly a cold note to Kat’s words. Emma felt it. So did Regina. The brunette glanced between the two blondes, wondering if she needed to intervene. Emma seemed to be collecting herself before replying. Regina silently prayed that the woman would be able to keep her cool, although she would also understand if she didn’t, since Kat’s words must have stung.

“I get it,” Emma said eventually. “I’m nothing like your father, Kat. I would never do what he did. But I can't deny there are similarities with our behaviours. Addiction does that to a person. It makes your worldview so narrow that all that matters is the next bet, the next drink, the next score. Whatever it is, that thing consumes everything and nothing else matters. So yes, last year I did hurt Regina the way I would never dream of hurting her but that wasn’t me, that was my addiction.”

“Your addiction is a part of you,” Kat shot back.

“It is,” Emma replied slowly. “And it always will be. But Regina and I are working together to ensure I never get back to that place. I can spot the signs. Regina is here for me. We’re working through this and yes it will always be a cloud over our relationship but maybe that’s a good thing. I got complacent before; I thought I was fully recovered. Now I know I’ll never not be an addict and I have to work the program every day. I’m willing to do that. Regina is willing to help me.

“I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused in the past but as Regina’s friend, I think you need to accept her decision to forgive me and be supportive of her. This isn’t easy for either of us and I am more than aware that it’s tough for Regina too. The thought of her having a friend like you to talk to is reassuring for me. But you need to be on our side. You need to be rooting for me, for us. And last week, well, I guess we both felt like you were against us. Regina’s had a conversation with you but I suppose I still felt I needed to say something after the way we spoke in your office. So, yeah, that’s what I wanted to say.”

She finished with a shrug before reaching for her wine. Kat took several sips of her own drink before answering, fingers playing with the delicate stem of her glass as she struggled to find the words.

“I’m sorry for how I spoke to you. To both of you,” she added, shooting a shy smile at Regina who nodded her encouragement. “I know you’re nothing like my father, Emma. I know you want to change. I know you’d do anything for your family. And I suppose most importantly, I know you make Regina happy. As her friend, all I want is for Regina to be happy. So of course I’m on your side. And, again, I truly am sorry.”

“I get it,” Emma replied. “You believed you were being a good friend. And I’m so grateful to you for your friendship with Regina. But now I think we both need you to be on board with our new path.”

“I’m on board,” Kat replied. “Whatever you guys decide, it’s your relationship. I’m here as a friend, to both of you, by the way, and I’m not passing judgement. Except for how adorable you two are, can I say that?”

Emma laughed, the tension which had filled the room since the conversation started dissipating at once. “You can. Thank you. We are adorable, but I think it’s mostly Regina. She’s just too cute.”

“Cute, huh?” Regina smirked. “Let me go and get the starters while you two keep flattering me. Another drink by the way?”

Kat nodded her agreement to that, her wine glass almost empty, while Emma asked for a beer, having had enough wine for one evening. As Regina got to her feet, she whispered a quiet, “thank you,” in Kat’s ear before shooting a soft smile to Emma.

The blonde beamed back at her before popping an olive into her mouth and asking Kat how her spring term syllabus was panning out at the college.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I just lost my cat for an hour as she explores the new neighbourhood. It’s so nerve wracking! Luckily I heard her bell tinkling outside the front door (god knows how she got there, I let her out the back!) and now she’s snuggled up in front of the woodburner. Cat life!


	33. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wrote this then had dinner and completely forgot about it until I opened my laptop before bed. So it’s going up unedited. I hope it makes sense!! Sorry in advance for any typos.

Henry appeared shortly after the trio of women had moved on from the somewhat tense conversation, lured down from his bedroom by the scent of dinner.

“Hi Auntie Kat,” he greeted as he helped himself to some coke from the fridge. Soda was a treat in the Swan-Mills house and he’d managed to persuade his moms that if they wanted him to sit through a boring dinner party, he deserved some teeth-rotting sugary crap. Emma was always easier to win over than Regina, of course, as she secretly grabbed a bottle herself every now and then on her lunch hour.

Kat had decided early on in her life that being a mother wasn’t something she needed or wanted in her life. But she had always had a soft spot for Henry. As far as she was concerned, he was a kid she quite liked and if all children were like Henry, perhaps she’d consider having a family of her own. The trouble for her was that you didn’t get to pick your offspring. What if her own son or daughter was as troublesome as she’d been as a teenager. No, she decided. The world didn’t need another young Kathryn Nolan.

“Hey Henry. How are you?”

“Good thanks,” Henry said, slamming the fridge door accidentally and reaffirming Kat’s belief that there was no way she ever wanted to be a mother.

“How did you deal with your days in quarantine?”

“What?”

Regina winced at her son’s lack of manners. “Two weeks ago, Henry. When we all had to stay inside the house because there had been the chemical leak. That was a form of quarantine; staying away until it was safe to go outside.”

“Oh right, the shelter in place thing,” Henry simplified. “Yeah, it was fine. Ma was here so that was cool and we just played games. How long ‘til dinner?”

“It’s ready. Go and wash your hands please,” Regina said, getting up to begin serving the food.

Emma jumped to her feet to help, insisting Kat stay put and topping the woman’s wine glass up before she joined Regina in plating up their dinner. Henry took his seat when he reentered, half of his drink already drunk, one eye on the refrigerator as he wondered whether he could get away with a top up.

“This looks delicious, ladies,” Kat exclaimed as the meal was set in front of her.

“All Regina,” Emma said at once. “You know if I was in charge of dinner we’d either be having a barbeque or take out.”

“Both excellent options for dinner, to be fair,” Kat chuckled. After all, who didn’t love a summertime BBQ or a meal delivered to your door which didn’t require any prep time before or washing up after.

They began eating and settled into an easy, familiar conversation. While it had been months since all of them had shared a meal, before the separation, Kat had been a regular feature in their house and the atmosphere was relaxed and enjoyable for everyone.

“So, Henry, how’s school?” Kat asked.

“S’alright,” Henry said through a mouthful of food.

“Are you still top of your English class?”

“Yep,” the boy grinned. “But my math still sucks.”

“That’s ok. You can’t be good at everything. As long as you get the grades to get into college. I mean, if you can still go to college.”

A fork clattered against porcelain, then slipped onto the wooden table before dropping to the kitchen tiled floor with a clang.

“Sorry,” Emma all but shouted, reaching under the table to pick up the dropped utensil. But before she’d resurfaced, Henry had already asked the question.

“Why wouldn’t I be able to go to college?”

Kat’s face paled, suddenly realising what she’d said. She felt a wave of guilt and immediately stuttered something but no words came out. Emma too was completely mute. In fact, she thought if she tried to speak she might be sick. It was Regina who found her voice first. The words, however, didn’t seem to help.

“Henry, do you want some more coke?”

“Yeah!” He sprang to his feet but instead of racing to the fridge, he froze. “Hang on, can I not go to college?”

“I should go,” Kat said, making to stand up even though her plate was half full.

“Kat, it’s fine. You don’t have to go,” Regina assured.

“What’s going on?” Henry asked. “Why does Kat want to leave? Why is Mom letting me drink more coke? Ma? Did I get bad grades or something? I thought I didn’t have to start worrying about that stuff yet.” Truth be told, college hadn’t been something Henry had given much thought to. It was just a milestone in his life he always assumed he had been slowly working towards. But it was seven years away. He hadn’t yet started thinking seriously about it. Maybe he’d been wrong.

“Henry, you didn’t do anything wrong. Your grades are fantastic,” Regina reassured.

“Except for math,” Henry pointed out.

“Well, we’ll get you a tutor. Don’t worry. You’re going to college. Any college you want. To study whatever you want. I promise.”

“Right,” Henry said slowly, familiar with all of those reassurances from his mother. Both his mothers had always impressed upon him that it didn’t matter where his passions and interests lay, they’d support him to follow his dreams. “So why did you,” he turned to Kat, “say ‘if I can still go to college’? What’s with the ‘if’?”

Kat looked like a deer in the headlights. She had no idea what to say. She had no idea how much Henry knew; clearly less than her brain had assumed when those words spilled carelessly from her mouth. “I -”

“Actually, Kat, maybe it is best if we talk about this with Henry, just the three of us.”

The woman shot a look of relief at her best friend at the interruption which provided her with an out. She stood up at once, muttered an apology to Emma and hurried from the room. Regina followed, passing her friend her coat and reassuring her that she knew it wasn’t intentional, adding that she would text her later to let her know what happened.

By the time Regina returned to the kitchen, Henry was sitting back down, his glass now refilled with coke. He might have been waiting to find out what was going on but the opportunity to drink more sugar wasn’t going to be missed. “So, what’s going on?” Henry asked once Regina was sitting down again.

Regina looked at Emma but the woman was staring resolutely at her food. As she watched, a tear landed on the side of the plate. “Henry, the most important thing you need to know is that you are going to go to college. As I said, wherever you want, to study whatever you want. And if you decide you don’t want to go to college and you become a pro surfer or an Instagram influencer, that’s fine too. I mean, please don’t do the latter but if you do, your ma and I will support you. Whatever you want, we’re behind you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know that, Mom,” Henry reassured. “But what I don’t know is why Auntie Kat was saying ‘if’. I don’t know what I want to study at college yet. It’s, like, ages away. I’ve not started thinking about my major yet. But why does she think I might not go? Is it because of my math?”

“No,” Regina reassured. “It’s nothing to do with your math. And as I’ve said, if you want to go to college, we’ll make that happen.”

“Yeah, I get that. But what was Auntie Kat talking about?”

Regina didn’t say anything. It wasn’t her place. She and Emma had both agreed that it should be the blonde who spoke with Henry about what had happened. Unfortunately, their discussion hadn’t gone much further than that, and aside from not telling Henry yet, she had no idea how Emma wanted to broach the subject. They should have talked about it. They should have planned. They thought they had time. And now, thanks to a slip of the tongue Kat made, they were confronted with something neither were prepared for.

“Henry, I need to tell you something.”

Emma’s voice, smaller than usual, broke the silence. Henry looked from his dark haired mother to the blonde, eyes widening as he saw that Emma was crying. A jolt of fear shot through his body. What was wrong? Were his moms breaking up again? Was Emma sick? Was he sick?

“Ma?” Henry asked, his own voice now wavering. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

“I’m ok, kid,” Emma said, trying to reassure him with a watery smile. “But I made a mistake a while back. I’m doing everything I can to make it right again and I will make it right again. It’s something I’m ashamed of and I feel very guilty about so I didn’t want to tell you. I asked your mom not to say anything either because I wanted to tell you myself. I hadn’t planned to say anything today but I guess it’s time you knew.”

Henry looked more concerned now than before Emma had spoken. “What did you do?” he asked, a grave look far beyond his years on his face.

“I … Last year … So, you know I …” As the blonde stopped and started, Regina reached over and placed her hand on top of Emma’s on the table, a silent reassurance, a squeeze of support. The younger woman took a deep breath and started again. “Do you remember when you came home from school when you were seven and asked if we could play poker?”

Henry furrowed his brow. “No.”

“Well, you did. Someone at school had taught you how to play poker. It’s a card game where you bet based on how good your hand is and if you win, you get everyone’s chips. Or money or gummies, whatever you’re betting with.”

“Yeah, I know what poker is, Ma. We used to play it in the playground with cents. But I don’t remember asking if we could play at home.”

“Well, you did ask. And we said no.”

“Right…,” Henry said slowly. “So?”

“There was a reason we said no, Henry,” Emma replied. “And the reason is because of me.”

There was a pause so Henry asked another question. “You don’t like poker or something?”

“No, I like poker. I like poker a lot actually,” Emma smiled wryly. “That’s the problem. Henry, do you know the word addiction?”

“Like when you can’t stop drinking or taking drugs?” Henry asked, even more confused now.

“Exactly. But you can get addicted to lots of things. Yes, you hear a lot about alcoholics who are addicted to drinking or people who use drugs but you can get addicted to cigarettes, to food, to games on your phone, or the internet.”

“Really? But, being addicted to games isn’t that bad, right?”

“It is if you play games all the time and don’t do any school work or revise for exams or can’t get a job,” Emma pointed out.

Henry’s face fell. “Is that why I can’t go to college?”

“No!” Emma exclaimed. “And you can go to college. Just like Mom said. If you want to go, we’ll get you there. So, back to the addictions, there’s another addiction which is common. It’s called gambling addiction. Do you know what gambling is?”

“When you bet money on sports and stuff, right?”

“Right. And gambling can also be on card games like poker. That’s why we couldn’t let you play poker at home.”

“Because you didn’t want me to become addicted to gambling?”

“No, because …” Emma took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Because I’m addicted to gambling, Henry.”

There was a pregnant pause. Regina watched her son’s face closely, waiting as his brain processed the information. Emma waited too, wanting her son to speak first.

“You’re addicted to playing poker?” Henry asked eventually.

“Not just poker. I can bet on anything. But I don’t do it. I stopped gambling a long time ago. Before I met your mom, actually. I saw that it was bad and I worked really hard to stop. But being an addict is like being sick. Sometimes it’s really hard to control my mind and sometimes all I want to do is go and gamble. But I know it’s wrong because it’s dangerous so I try really hard not to do it.”

“Why’s it dangerous?”

“Because when you gamble, you want to win. And winning feels good. But when you win a little bit, next time, you want to play with more money because the feeling gets better. So you keep playing with more and more money so that you feel happier every time you win. But with gambling, you don’t always win. And when you lose, someone takes all of your money. That’s what happened last year, Henry. That’s why your mom asked me to move out.”

“Because of money? But, we have a house. And cars. We have money, right?”

“We do,” Emma nodded. “But I made a mistake with some money last year. And your mom was rightly upset and asked me to move out so she could think about and deal with what happened. Now, as you know, we’re working hard to get back together and things are going really well. But now you need to know. And this wasn’t how I planned to tell you but I suppose you are old enough to understand. So, yeah, here it is. I’m a gambling addict, Henry.”

“I get that but I don’t understand what this has to do with college. I’m eleven. I’m not going to college for years. Why are you telling me this now?”

Emma braced herself. Just rip off the bandaid, she told herself. Get it out there. Say it. Get it over and done with. There’s nowhere else to go from here.

“The money I used to gamble last year was your college fund.”

“I have a college fund?” Henry asked, bypassing the confession. The thought had never occurred to him about how he’d pay for college. After all, it was years away and he’d never considered the practicalities of it. But that being said, now he was remembering some stuff in the news when his moms wouldn’t switch channels about how expensive colleges were. So you did need money to go. “Hang on, do I _still_ have a college fund?”

“You have some money, yes,” Emma replied. “And I’m going to put all of the money I spent back, I promise.”

“How much is in my fund?” Henry asked, briefly wondering whether this meant he could buy a new cell phone.

“It’s about eighty thousand dollars,” Emma said.

“Wow! That’s loads. Awesome! So, when do I get the money?”

“That’s not how it works,” Emma replied. “The money is used to pay college fees and pay for housing and food and living while you’re studying. But, Henry, if you want to go to a private college, that’s not actually enough.”

“Wow! Colleges are expensive! So, hang on, how much of my money did you gamble with?”

Emma winced. “You had almost two hundred thousand in there.”

The words were said to the now cold plate of food, not to her son. Emma couldn’t bear to meet his eyes.

“Two hundred thousand?” the pre-teen repeated, gobsmacked. “So, what, you used over one hundred thousand dollars to play poker? And lost it?”

“But I’m paying it back,” Emma said quickly.

“And if she can’t pay it all back, we’ll find the money,” Regina said quickly, speaking for the first time in a while. “This won’t affect your college education, Henry.”

“You gambled one hundred thousand dollars?” Henry asked, ignoring Regina.

“I did.”

“How?” Henry frowned.

“Mistakes. Like I said, I bet bigger amounts to win big but I didn’t win. I lost. But as a gambling addict, I couldn’t walk away. I tried to win it back but I just lost more. Then by the time I realised what had happened, it was too late. I’m so sorry, Henry. I never meant to hurt you. Or you,” she added, turning again to Regina who shook her head subtly to tell Emma this wasn’t the time.

Henry was quiet for a long time. Emma didn’t say anything. She knew her son needed time. She expected him to have questions. Regina waited patiently, her hand still resting on top of Emma’s.

“So, you’re a gambling addict. You took money from my college fund to use to play poker. You lost the money and Mom found out and kicked you out. And now she’s forgiven you and you’re paying back the money and I can still go to college. Is that right?”

“Yes,” Emma nodded, feeling no need to tell Henry that it wasn’t only playing poker which resulted in his lost fortune.

“So … am I meant to be angry?”

“Do you feel angry?” Emma asked.

“No,” Henry shrugged. “I guess I can see how Mom was super mad. I mean, that’s a lot of money, right? And I’m guessing you lied to her about the gambling. But I didn’t even know I had the money. And college isn’t for ages so it doesn’t matter to me. But, you’re not going to keep gambling, right?” His face was more concerned than accustorial.

“No,” Emma said quickly. “I’m in Gamblers’ Anonymous and I go to meetings and I’m working really hard to never, ever gamble again. Your mom is helping me.”

“Is Gamblers’ Anonymous like Alcoholics’ Anonymous?”

“How do you know about Alcoholics’ Anonymous?” Regina asked.

“TV,” Henry shrugged.

“Well, yes, they’re the same idea,” Emma confirmed. “And I’m going to work every day for the rest of my life to make sure I don’t ever make a mistake. Plus, your mom is the only one with access to your college fund now, just so you know.”

“So, I don’t have access?”

“You will get it when you turn eighteen but you don’t need it now, why?”

“Well, cos, my phone’s kinda crap so I was wondering if I could get a new one,” Henry said, eyes wider than usual as he tried to pull his ‘cute’ face.

Emma couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know what, kid? I think we can arrange something. And if there’s anything you want to ask about my gambling addiction, or addiction in general, you can talk to both me and your mom, ok?”

“Ok. Can I have more coke?”

Seeing that their son wasn’t going to fly off the handle, Regina put her foot down. “Two glasses is enough. Water or milk now, please. Would you like me to reheat your plate? I’m afraid we all got a bit distracted there, didn’t we?”

Henry nodded his agreement and poured himself some water as Regina scooped up their half-finished meals to microwave them briefly. As she passed, she pressed a kiss to Emma’s temple, whispering, “I’m proud of you,” in the blonde’s ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Any mistakes - leave them in the review and I’ll change them, sorry!


	34. Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Sunday!

Whatever Emma had imagined when she pictured the moment she confessed to her son, the reality hadn’t come close. It had by far exceeded her expectations. No, that wasn’t fair; she had underestimated her son. Or perhaps she had overestimated Henry’s awareness of what she had really done.

No, maybe she was underestimating him again. He wasn’t a child, after all. But perhaps with the reassurances of both Regina and Emma that his future was not and would never be compromised ensured that he was focused not on what Emma had done but, finally, on the truth.

Henry deserved to know. He deserved to know not only about the jeopardy in which Emma had put his college fund but also what had happened to his mothers’ relationship. To his family. Because their separation had been a shocking disruption to his life. It had come out of nowhere. There had been no explanation. For eleven years, every day, he had lived with two mothers, then one afternoon, he was told one was moving out. And he was left in the dark as to why. At least now he knew. At least now it made sense.

Of course Henry deserved to be told what had happened. Emma had always known that. She just hadn’t expected to do it that night. And she hadn’t expected it to go quite so well. Yet Henry had accepted her explanation, accepted her flaws. He still loved her. Her heart had swelled when she’d realised that. She hadn’t lost him. In fact, perhaps she had found him again. No more secrets, no more hiding, no more denial.

After dinner, Henry had suggested they watch a movie. Emma and Regina readily agreed, allowing their son to choose the entertainment. Which was how they ended up sitting through two hours of a subpar story about some superhero they’d never heard of, saving the world which was being threatened by a poorly animated alien invasion.

But Emma didn’t care. All she cared about was the fact that she got to sit on the couch with Regina snuggled into her side, Henry at the far end, chomping loudly on popcorn neither of his mothers wanted to deny him, despite the fact that his sugar content that night was bordering on dangerous.

After the movie had finished, Henry announced he was going to play games on his cell phone upstairs. His preteen behaviour was, they knew, a glimpse of what they were in for over the coming years. He no longer wanted to be around them all the time as he had as a young child. And that was ok; that was healthy. He was maturing; becoming his own person. And now they were going to need to steel themselves for the upcoming few years when he didn’t even want to be in the same house as them, let alone sitting together for movie night.

So they wished their son goodnight, Emma calling out that she loved him as he retreated from the room. The boy, to her delight, echoed her words, albeit without turning around. Regina, however, repeated them in her ear, pressing a kiss to her neck before snuggling even closer.

Emma didn’t think she had ever been happier as she tightened her grip around Regina’s shoulders and switched off the TV where Netflix was trying to tempt her to watch some other drivel she had no interest in. She and Regina didn’t need anything in that moment, except for one another. They settled into the warm body beside them, content to do nothing but be.

“I should call Kat,” Regina said quietly ten minutes later, not wanting to break the silence but realising that she owed her friend a phone call. There had been a text on her cell when she’d glanced at it after dinner. The preview included the word sorry at least three times. She knew her friend would be kicking herself. It had been an honest mistake and she should put her out of her misery.

“Sure. Tell her no hard feelings, ok? I know she didn’t mean to say what she said. It’s not worth falling out over. I mean, we only just made up, right?”

“Agreed,” Regina replied. “She didn’t mean to put her foot in it in quite such spectacular style.”

“I know. I bet she’s kicking herself right now,” Emma said. And while she had no desire to reignite her feud with Kat, the thought of the blonde wallowing in self-pity for a few hours wasn’t entirely unwelcome. After all, it was Kat’s fault that she had had to have such an uncomfortable conversation with her son, unprepared. That said, it had gone rather well. And, as Emma had realised, she was now free from that terrible secret she had been keeping from her son.

“Hey, can you tell Kat thanks from me?” Emma called after her wife who was walking out of the room and towards the kitchen where she’d left her cell phone.

Regina paused in the doorway. “Um, sure,” she said slowly before recommencing her journey when it became obvious Emma wasn’t going to elaborate.

By the time she returned, twenty minutes later, having listened to Kat apologise profusely and then having explained what happened when they told Henry, Emma was lying on the couch, lost in her phone.

“Well?” Emma asked when Regina sat back down and she recognised her presence once more.

“She feels awful, even after I told her how well it went. And passed on your thanks,” she added with a quizzical expression.

Emma shrugged. Which is a difficult thing to do sitting down. So she pushed herself upright before sliding over towards Regina and resuming the position they had enjoyed throughout the movie. “She did me a favour,” Emma explained. “I needed to tell Henry and if I hadn’t been pushed, I would have just kept putting it off over and over again. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d have confessed on my deathbed had it not been forced on me before that moment. And that’s assuming I’m lucky enough to have a deathbed. So, I guess I owe Kat for this evening.”

“You’re very sweet. And perhaps it is best we’ve got it over and done with. How are you feeling?”

“Relieved. Lighter. As if I can finally breathe again, to be honest. Do you think he’s really ok with it?”

“I don’t think he truly grasped how big of a deal it was, to be honest,” Regina sighed, stroking her fingers up and down the back of Emma’s bicep, feeling the toned muscles beneath the skin. “He’s never worked a day in his life. He doesn’t understand the value of money. So the fact that money he didn’t know he had is no longer there is, I suppose, intangible for him.”

“It’s not intangible for me. Or for you.”

Regina heard the uncertainty in the woman’s voice and wondered to herself whether Emma truly would believe that Regina had forgiven her.

“You’re paying it back. I trust you never to do it again. You know you did wrong and you’re not going to make that mistake again.”

“I wish I had your confidence in me,” Emma whispered, her own self-doubt showing itself in a moment of vulnerability.

“Maybe I have enough confidence in you for the both of us. At least until you have that confidence in yourself which you deserve.”

Emma let the words wash over her, wrap around her, fill her up. Was it enough? Maybe it would have to be, at least for now. She was working on feeling confident in herself. She was determined to feel confident in herself. She was determined to beat this, to overcome this, to recover. Or, at least, to work on her recovery in such a way that she was confident in her own capacity to keep her addiction at bay.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” she murmured.

“Oh, I’m well aware of that, my dear,” Regina replied with a low, throaty chuckle.

That laugh, that tone, did funny things to Emma’s stomach. No, not her stomach. Lower.

“Bed?” she asked. It was only nine thirty but she realised she was unable to wait any longer to lie with her wife in their marital bed. Luckily for Emma, Regina’s thoughts were heading in the same direction. After months apart, they were still making up for lost time.

Regina shifted beside her before getting up and extending her hand towards her wife. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Monday morning dawned cool and bright, the springtime warmth not yet having burned away the dewy chill from the night before. Emma and Regina revelled for a few more minutes underneath their cosy duvet before giving into reality and getting up. It wasn’t that either of them disliked their jobs; on the contrary. But that didn’t mean they’d rather go to work when the other option was lying, naked, wrapped in one another.

The rest of the weekend had been nothing special, with Sunday spent together in their house doing chores and relaxing. It was refreshing to not leave their home by choice, rather than because it was unsafe to walk outside. And its normalcy, its lack of notability gave Emma an inkling of hope.

Her presence was no longer a novelty. Their weekends together had become standard, expected. Even though, in reality, it had only been a few weeks since their reconciliation. But both women, and their son, had settled back into the familiarity of the three of them being together. And that gave Emma hope.

“Bye Ma. See you on Wednesday,” Henry called from the hallway before slamming the door shut on his way to school.

Oh yeah, Emma remembered. Not quite normal yet. She still didn’t get to see her son every day and now she would have to wait until mid-week when it was her turn to look after Henry. She listened to the crunching of gravel under his ever-growing feet as he trudged down the driveway before turning back to her cereal, looking rather despondent. Regina watched her wife over the rim of her mug, her heart breaking at the expression she witnessed.

“Hey,” she said softly. “You want to talk about it?”

Emma shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

“Well, I’m not.”

At that, Emma looked up, face filled with concern. “What’s wrong?” she asked, immediately forgetting her own wallowing.

Regina smiled gently and lowered her mug. “Emma, I want you to come home. It’s time.”

There was a long pause while Emma tried to process the words. Sure, they were words she’d dreamed of hearing for months but the two of them hadn’t discussed a timescale for Emma’s return to the family home and she hadn’t been expecting them quite so soon. No matter how loved-up and happy they were, she knew there was still some way to go.

“Already?”

“If you’re ready, I’m ready,” Regina nodded. “I miss you when you’re not here, Emma. And so does Henry. But I’m not just saying this because we miss having you around. You belong here, with us. We’re your family. We belong together and I don’t want to spend another night apart from you.”

“I … I didn’t know we were there yet,” Emma confessed.

Regina wrapped her hands around her half-drunk mug of coffee and gazed into the inky blackness. “Well, maybe you’re not. And that’s fine. I’ll wait if you’re not ready. But I am.”

“No, I’m ready,” Emma said quickly. “I’m so ready. I’ve been wanting to move back in from the moment I left. Of course I want to come back. Not just because I miss you but because I think we can work on any of our problems better when we’re together. And, yes, of course I get to spend more time with Henry too. So yes, Regina, if you’re sure, I’ll move back in tonight.”

Regina beamed and stood up, making her way towards Emma just as the blonde did the same. They met, or rather collided in a hard kiss, sealing their commitment with a primitive but heartfelt display of passion for one another. Both were glad that their son had left for school because within moments Regina found herself perched on the edge of the dining table, Emma’s fingers pressing between her legs with Regina’s skirt hoisted up to the top of her thighs, the blonde’s nose nudging her blouse open to lick and suck the warm skin of her breasts.

They were late for work.

And they didn’t care. Because their marriage was back on track. Because their lives were back on track. It wasn’t over. Emma’s addiction would never be over. But they’d be together for whatever the future may hold. Together with their son. Their compassionate, understanding, forgiving son. Who deserved both his mothers. Who wanted and needed both his mothers. Under one roof. Who was going to be very happy when he came home after school that day to discover the news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, I’ve decided this is the penultimate chapter. That means next week will be the last one. Sorry! But I’ve been so busy recently that writing has become difficult and I’d rather wrap everything up neatly than drag it out with less frequent updates and probably poorer quality writing. Tune in next week to see how Henry reacts and, perhaps, a final NSFW scene for our ladies. Any requests for sexy time stuff, drop it into a review.


	35. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is it - the final chapter. It’s NSFW, of course.

Henry slammed the door behind him and slung his back onto the chair in the hallway which had been strategically placed for him to do just that, rather than dropping it onto the floor where, more than once, Emma had tripped over it coming in from work. Regina had tried to get him to put his bag away but when that failed, the chair was the next best thing.

The house was empty. Which was good, otherwise he’d have been told off for slamming the door. He hadn’t meant to. It was just … slammy. And perhaps he hadn’t been concentrating when he kicked it closed. Turning around, he noted the scuff mark on the paint where his foot had connected with the door.

“Damn it,” he muttered, crossing back and using the cuff of his school sweater, tied around his waist after a warm walk home, to rid the evidence of his carelessness. When the mark had all but disappeared, he headed into the kitchen to find a snack.

Packet of crisps in hand and a large glass of water (the coca cola from Saturday night had been drunk), he walked into the living room and fired up the television. He’d have at least twenty minutes before his mom got home in which to watch whatever he wanted before he’d have to whip out his homework and pretend to be diligently studying. He’d got it down to a fine art. Although he was almost twelve, his parents wouldn’t let him stay home alone for long so his mom had ensured her lecture schedule enabled her to be home shortly after Henry, every afternoon.

Soon, however, he would be twelve. Then he’d be old enough not to need a parent around. But for now, he had to make do with a snatched window of unsupervised time each afternoon. It was a little better when he went to Emma’s. Partly because his blonde mother liked to watch the same things on TV and partly because her pathetic cooking skills meant they often ordered take out.

That said, Henry would rather have both his moms back in the same house rather than have pizza every day for the rest of his life. Well … it was a close run thing. Pizza was awesome. But his moms back together had to be better than that.

* * *

“How was school?” Regina asked when she poked her head around the living room door thirty minutes later to see Henry staring at a textbook. She wondered whether he still thought he was fooling them with his pretence at studying from the moment he walked in the door to the time dinner was placed on the table.

“Fine,” Henry replied. “How was work?”

“It was good, thank you, dear. I was going to make fajitas tonight. Does that suit you?”

Henry jerked his head up. “Fajitas? They’re Ma’s favourite. Can we eat them without her?”

“Firstly, your ma doesn’t have the monopoly of fajitas, Henry. If we wanted to have them, we could. But secondly, your ma is coming over tonight after her work. There’s something we want to talk to you about.”

Henry scrutinised his mother’s expression. Was that a smirk? It definitely wasn’t sad. Did they have good news to share with him? Were they going to give him all that college fund money early? He was going to be rich! “Cool!” he exclaimed.

Retreating to make a start on dinner, Regina wondered whether she had given away the news, even though she’d barely said anything. She hoped she hadn’t. It was something she wanted to tell Henry with Emma by her side. They both deserved to be there when Henry was told.

They had spoken that morning about how best to tell him but quickly realised that the imparting of good news didn’t have to be planned in the way one has to consider the delivery of bad news. When Emma had moved out, they had agonised about how to tell Henry. They didn’t want to tell him everything but knew it was important he had enough information to understand that Emma wasn’t moving back. Well, at least not any time soon. And at the time, Regina hadn’t anticipated ever allowing Emma back.

Back in October, Regina hadn’t been thinking beyond her own pain and betrayal. She hadn’t thought about what it would be like when those emotions had dulled; when she had come to terms with Emma’s mistake. What then? Well, as it turned out, her life was emptier than she could ever have imagined. Henry was the only source of happiness left to her and when he wasn’t around, the world seemed dark and colourless. Without Emma, life was dull.

Now, however, she got to bring colour and joy back into their son’s life.They were going to be together again. They were going to be a family again. It was over. The past was in the past. And it was time to focus on the future.

* * *

“Honey, I’m home!” Emma bellowed from the hallway as soon as she arrived about an hour later, stacking one of the suitcases which she’d hastily packed out of view so Henry didn’t catch onto what tonight was about until they were ready. She still had plenty of things in the apartment but they’d agreed to spend the weekend moving Emma back in. For now, she’d just brought some essentials.

Her old school greeting made Regina roll her eyes but she took it as a sign to go to the fridge and pull out a beer. By the time Emma entered, the drink was ready for her.

“I feel like we’re acting like a 1950s couple suddenly,” Emma remarked as Regina handed her the beer and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’m pretty sure 1950s America wouldn’t have approved of our relationship,” Regina pointed out. “How was work?”

“Fine. Are you making fajitas?” Emma asked, taking in the smells wafting through the room. Regina nodded, causing Emma to beam widely and plant a firm kiss to her wife’s lips. “You’re awesome. Where’s Henry?”

“In the living room, pretending to do his homework. Can you tell him we’re ten minutes away from eating?”

Emma nodded and headed off to see her son. Just as she entered the room, she saw the TV screen flash to darkness. Their son was sneaky! He’d clearly been watching something with the volume down super low. Poor kid wasn’t as savvy as he thought.

“Hey kid. Dinner in ten. How was your day?”

“Fine. Mom says you’re here for dinner. That’s good, right? She’s properly forgiven you now, yeah?”

“It’s very good,” Emma nodded, ignoring the question about forgiveness. Emma and Regina were now both aware that it was Emma whose forgiveness the blonde needed, rather than Regina’s. She was working on it.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

At once, Emma sat down beside him, patting his knee earnestly. “Always, Henry. You can ask me anything.”

“Was that why Mom was mad at you? Because you used my college money to gamble? Is that what made her hate you for so long?”

“Pretty much,” Emma nodded. “Well, it was what I did but also that I didn’t tell her for a long time. In fact, I didn’t tell her until it was too late for her to be able to help me.”

“So, she was mad at you because of something you did with my money, right?”

“Yes, well, it’s money her parents, your grandparents left to you. It’s not yours yet but as and when you go to college, you’ll be able to use it.”

“Does that mean I should be mad at you? I mean, I’m not and I don’t really get why Mom kicked you out. I’m just curious. Should I be angry?”

Emma sighed and looked down at her lap. “You have every right to be angry with me, Henry. I did something really bad and if it wasn’t for your mom, my actions could have made your future plans difficult. So, yes, in theory, you should be angry with the mistake I made and how I put your college future in jeopardy. But just because you should feel something, doesn’t mean you always do. Feelings are complicated and they’re different for each person. Maybe your mom reacted differently to you because she is older and she understands more about the cost of a college education. Maybe you reacted the way you did because it was not something which affects you at the moment. Don’t force yourself to react how you think you should. Just do what feels natural, ok?”

“Ok. Then, I’m not mad,” Henry said simply. “And I’m glad you’re here for dinner. Mom’s making fajitas too. You know, we haven’t had them at all since you left. I asked for them once but she started crying. I think they remind her of you.”

“I am very similar to a tortilla stuffed with spiced meat and veg,” Emma chuckled. “Go wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Back in the kitchen, Emma helped Regina carry all of the elements of the build-it-yourself meal to the table before topping up the woman’s wine glass and placing a kiss to the side of her neck. “Ready?” she asked.

“I think it’s been long enough, don’t you?” Regina smiled. Almost six months. Yes, both women were more than ready to tell their son that Emma was coming home.

Which was why Emma couldn’t wait until she’d finished her first tortilla before broaching the conversation. “So, kid. Your mom and I have something to tell you.”

Henry swallowed his mouthful and grinned. “Are we going on vacation?”

“What? No. I mean, maybe in the summer. Why do you say that?”

“You seemed super happy. Both of you. And who isn’t happy about a vacation? Can we go to Disney finally? All my mates have been.”

“Let’s talk about that another time,” Emma said, knowing it would take a miracle to persuade Regina to spend her hard-earned vacation at Disney. “Your mom and I have some other news that we want to tell you now though.”

Henry nodded, his mouth full again. Glancing at the brunette, Emma waited until she received the nod of consent before turning back to their son.

“I’m coming home.”

A broad grin spread at once across Henry’s face. “Really?” he said, through a mouthful of half chewed food.

“Really,” Emma nodded. “Your mom and I decided this morning. Our time apart was hard and we’ve done a lot of work and we’ve got a lot more to do but we want to do it together. All three of us, in fact. I’m coming back to live here again.”

Henry launched himself out of his chair and threw his arms around Emma’s neck. The woman hugged him back, tears brimming in her eyes and quickly spilling down her cheeks. Regina couldn’t resist getting up to join in the family huddle. Both Henry and Emma quickly enveloped the brunette woman too, the trio tangled in a tight mass of love and affection for one another. This, Emma knew, was her home. This was all she would ever need. This was love.

* * *

Later that night, hours after Henry went to sleep, a smile on his face at the knowledge that his moms were really, truly back together, Emma and Regina settled side by side in their marital bed. Emma had taken great pride in having put her toothbrush back in its place in the ensuite. The small action felt highly symbolic. Her toothbrush belonged there. Next to Regina’s. It was home. And so was she.

“I’m so happy,” she said, sliding herself tightly against Regina’s body, an arm curling around the woman’s slender waist as her nose nuzzled the warm, smooth skin at the base of her hairline and the top of her neck.

“Me too, my love,” Regina replied, fingers trailing up and down Emma’s forearm. “And Henry’s happy too. That’s what matters the most, right?”

“Always. He always comes first. Well, tied with you. Is that ok? Or does that make a bad mother?” In truth, that was often something Emma worried about. Her love for Henry was absolute and unconditional. It was the most surreal and powerful love she’d ever experienced which had slammed into her at the moment of his birth. It was different to her love for Regina but it was not a ‘better’ kind of love. As far as she was concerned, both Henry and Regina held equal place in her heart.

“That makes you a wonderful mother and a wonderful wife. We’re family, Emma. There’s no hierarchy here. All we need is love.”

“Now you sound like a Richard Curtis movie,” Emma chuckled. “But thanks.”

“You’re welcome. And welcome home.”

Regina rolled her head to one side and captured Emma’s lips in a soft kiss. But it didn’t stay soft for long. Soon she found herself on top of the blonde, knees planted firmly on either side of her hips, pelvis rocking gently forwards and backwards as Emma’s hands slid up her back and divested her of her nightshirt.

Once topless, Emma sat up, forcing Regina to shift backwards slightly, her covered core now pressed into Emma’s abdomen as the blonde’s mouth peppered kisses across both breasts, trying to sample every inch of skin available to her. “Emma,” Regina groaned as she felt a tongue lap over her taut nipple.

“I love you,” came the simple reply, muttered against brown, pebbled skin. Regina allowed her head to fall backwards, fingers coming up to lace their way through Emma’s hair, anchoring her to her breast. Emma had no intention of going anywhere, lavishing attention first to the left, then the right nipple. And back and again. Over and over until she felt Regina rocking more insistently against her, the brunette’s fingers now reaching for her own pyjamas, tugging ineffectively at her top.

“Off,” Regina requested. Even if it meant ending the worshipping of her breasts, Regina wanted to move onto Emma now. She could never be accused of being a selfish lover. With some reluctance, Emma broke away from the woman’s now wet, and impossibly hard nipples and shucked the top over her head, flinging it to the far side of the room. But before Regina could do anything, Emma was rolling them over and sliding down the brunette, fingers taking the woman’s pyjama bottoms with them until they were kicked off into the depths of the duvet, shoved to the end of the bed.

When it became obvious that Emma wasn’t interested in anything by her wife’s pleasure, Regina decided against protesting at how one sided their evening had been so far. She knew she’d get her turn eventually. And, to be honest, the way Emma was looking at her bare sex, she was feeling rather impatient to be touched. She didn’t have to wait long.

Her eyes fluttered closed as Emma’s tongue laved over her inner thigh, quickly trailing towards her heat where it circled her clit once before digging deeper through her folds to her core. Regina groaned as she felt Emma push her face further forwards, as if she couldn’t get close enough. Which was exactly as Emma felt. This was as close as she could get and it still didn’t feel like enough. But nevertheless she knew she had what it took to take Regina to where she needed to be.

Reaching up the bed, Emma blindly fumbled for Regina’s hands on the mattress and when she found them, she threaded their fingers, anchoring them together with yet another point of contact. All the while, her tongue laved slow, almost lazy, strokes up and down through the woman’s wet folds. She both gathered the woman’s natural wetness while also adding her own, slicking the smooth skin with every pass. Plus each time she reached the top, she allowed her lips to clamp, briefly, on that tight nub of nerves.

The fingers between her own gripped tightly each time she did that. Emma knew it was a surefire way to build Regina up quickly but wouldn’t be enough to tip her over the edge. That’s what she wanted. That’s what she always wanted; to create such a crescendo that the resulting climax was mind blowing. Ok, Emma might be tooting her own horn but considering she’d spent so many nights buried in this exact spot, she was fairly confident in her abilities.

“Emma, I need more,” Regina gasped, knowing full well that her wife was holding back from giving her what she wanted too soon. “Please.”

Regina didn’t often beg in bed. To be fair, she didn’t often have to as she always knew Emma would eventually get her to where she desired most. But the use of the word ‘please’ told Emma her wife had been teased for too long and needed to feel her release. And who was she to deny her? She disengaged her right hand from Regina’s left and slid her fingers beneath her own chin, moving her mouth out of the way to make room. Her lips sealed once more around the woman’s clitoris, this time latching on and sucking more firmly, the tip of her tongue flicking back and forth.

The brunette moved her legs even wider apart, silently requesting what she knew was coming. Emma obliged. She dipped one, then two, then three fingers into Regina’s tight, velvet channel, easing them in slowly as the woman above her let out a groan. “Yes, more.”

Hesitating for a moment, Emma allowed her fingers to slide in and out, lubricated each time by the copious wetness which Regina’s body had produced. She took her time, however, before giving the woman what she wanted. Her fingers reached deeper, thrusted a little harder, pads pressing lightly against the front wall each time. It was only when the woman breathlessly whispered her name into the darkness that Emma added her pinkie finger to the three already pumping in and out. Curled inwards, she slowed down to ease it in, Regina letting out a moan of delight as she felt her body stretching to accommodate her wife.

“Are you ok?” Emma asked, kissing the top of the woman’s pubis as she paused her movement, not wanting to continue until she was sure Regina was comfortable.

“Never better,” Regina assured her. “I’m ready, Emma. I promise.”

In fairness, Emma knew Regina’s body was wet enough and pliant enough to take her. But she still wanted to go slow, check in with her partner, make sure they were both on the same page. Communication was key, after all. But with both women reassured, Emma redoubled her efforts, lips now tightening onto Regina’s clit, her four fingers pumping in and out faster and faster as Regina’s back arched off the bed.

“Yes. Oh god, Emma,” Regina cried as she felt her orgasm building inside her. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

Emma had no intention of stopping. Not until her wife was cresting against her tongue and fingers. At least, she hadn’t planned to stop. Until she heard Regina say “more,” at which point, she paused again.

“What?” she said, hooded eyes looking up the bare body, chin shining with come.

There was a pause, Regina lifting her head from the pillow and reaching down to cup Emma’s jawbone and stroke her thumb over the woman’s cheek. “More, my love. I want all of you.”

“Are you sure?” Emma asked. This was something they had done a few times early in their relationship but which hadn’t been part of their bedroom repertoire for years.

“I want you. And I trust you not to hurt me.”

Emma’s eyes sparkled in the gloom. She kissed the pad of Regina’s thumb, pulling it briefly into her mouth before releasing it and ducking back down to the woman’s neglected, throbbing core.

“Ok,” she said quietly. “Let me know if you need me to slow down.”

Again, communication was key. Emma settled herself more comfortably between her wife’s legs and began licking where her fingers disappeared into the woman’s core. She felt the entrance clench, stimulated and eager for what Emma was going to do. But she didn’t want to move too fast. Instead, she slowly began to move the four fingers already inside Regina, inching them slightly further inside until her thumb was brushing against the woman’s clit.

Expletives softly fell from the woman’s lips as she felt her body widen. Emma wanted to swear too but was focused on the task in hand. Literally. She tucked her thumb into the conical shape made by her fingers and slowed her movements more, using her own saliva to make sure her hand was lubricated. She didn’t, ever, want to hurt Regina.

“I’m ready, Emma,” Regina reassured, relaxing her muscles as she spoke to encourage the woman to press deeper. While it was sweet that Emma was taking such care, the fire raging in Regina’s core was now so intense that she just needed more. She needed to feel Emma, all of Emma, inside her.

“Ok,” Emma agreed, mouth returning to Regina’s clit to softly lave the bud. Not too much, not too intensely, as she guided her hand inside, feeling the woman’s body split open as the widest part, her knuckles, reached the point at which, Emma knew, she just had to push forwards.

And she did. Eyes open, she looked up into Regina’s face as she pushed her hand inside, feeling the woman’s body stretch wide and then close up over the narrower part of her hand and then to her wrist. “Fucking hell,” Emma breathed, the sensation of the hot, wetness surrounding her hand short-circuiting her brain.

Above her, Regina moaned in delight, her core pulsing against Emma’s fingers which remained still inside her.

“Emma,” Regina cried.

Careful not to jolt her hand, Emma managed to make her way far enough up Regina’s body to kiss her, their tongues colliding, sharing the taste of the brunette’s sex. Her hand started to move slowly, Regina’s guttural tones lost in the kiss as her body galloped towards its peak.

“You feel amazing,” Emma breathed when Regina threw her head back in pleasure and broke their kiss. “I can feel your body wrapped around me, Regina. I can feel every part of you. I can feel you squeezing me. Pressing on my fingers. I can feel your wetness. I can feel your pleasure. Come for my, my love. Come all over my hand.”

The dirty talk was all it took to push Regina over the edge, she gasped and convulsed as her cunt tightened, the muscles restricting Emma’s movement as it clamped around the woman’s hand. Emma herself swore at the intensity of the sensations, teeth sinking into the flesh of Regina’s breast as the woman pulsated around her.

Only when the older woman slumped, panting and exhausted, did Emma begin the delicate task of easing her hand out of the spent body. Regina winced slightly as she pulled out, but reassured the blonde when she apologised that Emma hadn’t hurt her. “I’m just sensitive,” Regina murmured, beckoning Emma up to lie beside her.

“You’re amazing, is what you are,” Emma replied. “Thank you, for trusting me to do that. We’ve not done that for years.”

“I trust you with my life,” Regina replied. “And I just needed to feel you in a primal way tonight. I needed to feel possessed by you, I suppose. Because you do possess me, Emma. You possess my heart. Every piece of it.”

“And you possess mine,” Emma declared. “I promise, for the rest of our lives together, I’ll do everything I can never to hurt your heart again. Whatever it takes, I’m going to make you the happiest woman in the world. Our family, Regina. That’s what matters to me now. Beyond anything my addiction may throw at us. It’s me, you and Henry. You’re my world. You’re my reason for being. You’re all I’ll ever need and I couldn’t be happier right now.”

“I mean, could you be happier if, say, I suggested we bring our old strap-on out of hibernation?” Regina suggested.

“I … um, yeah, I think that would make me very happy,” Emma nodded vigorously.

“Great. Give me a moment to regain the feeling in my legs and I’ll go and get it,” Regina grinned. “Oh, and Emma? You, me and Henry are my world too. I love you more than I can say.”

“I love you too and I always will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: smut turned sap. Can’t help myself! I hope you enjoyed this story. I started this when the UK entered lockdown and ironically I’m finishing it when half the country (and the world) are either recently back in lockdown or heading that way in the near future. But this too shall pass, I promise. And in the meantime, if you’re in the US and are over 18, vote!!! Drop me a comment and let me know how you liked the story. Stay safe, stay healthy, and stay SwanQueen!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Ok, so I thought a virus/medical need to stay at home was a bit close to the bone. Instead, I’ve found another way to force our ladies together! I’ve never written an AU for SwanQueen in which they start with a pre-existing relationship so I’m excited to see where it goes. I haven’t really got any plans for this story and I’ll be posting sporadically when I get the time to write. I’m fortunate to still be working full time (from home) but my evenings and weekends are completely free, of course. 
> 
> I know we’re living in scary times at the moment but we’re all in this together. Reach out to friends and family if you need help. I know I’m terrible at replying to reviews/messages but feel free to reach out here too. Reviews, as always, make my little writer heart sing. See you soon! And remember – stay home, stay safe!


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